Thirst
by icinks
Summary: Slaine searches desperately for his precious friend, a vampire princess. But instead of finding her, he is met with something completely unexpected...
1. Thirst

**a/n:** I woke up with this on my mind (*sweats*) so I had to write it down, of course. Sorry for any mistakes, I typed it on my mobile memo app while lying in bed, which is a lot like writing a novel on post-it notes with a pen that's nearly out of ink.

EDIT: I hadn't originally intended to continue this story, but as there was some interest and gothic _is_ my favorite genre, I've decided to keep writing. We'll see where it goes! Updates will probably be pretty sporadic though, since I just write when I'm in the mood for it...

* * *

Slaine advanced quietly through the dark hallway, his eyes straining in a desperate search.

"Princess?" he called in a whisper. No, that wouldn't do. What if he were to alert an enemy of his presence? He pressed his lips together and moved forward.

The Princess had gone missing near this place, several days ago. He had to find her. Was she alright? Worry nagged at him and he clutched his chest, his blue-green eyes threatening tears.

As he turned a corner, he saw a shadow standing in his path. One red eye gleamed at him through the darkness. He heard the person inhale, and then sigh needfully. In a moment they were right in front of him.

"K-Kaizuka... Inaho?!" he suddenly recognized the person. They were not friends, but he had seen him before. What was he doing here?

His thoughts were interrupted by hot breath on his neck. Slaine was confused. He had been sure that this boy was human... what was going on...

"How are you a-" Slaine winced as two fangs sunk into the base of his neck, his flesh giving way like a ripe fruit.

He retreated a step, trying to move away, but Inaho pushed him back against the wall with inhuman strength. His palms bruised Slaine's shoulders as they held him immobile, fingernails digging uncomfortably through his shirt. He gritted his teeth when the fangs were yanked out and a tongue began lapping at the deep puncture wounds. It was the fluid sound of an animal drinking its fill. In all his years living amongst vampires, due to the Princess's protection he had never once experienced this. He shivered a bit as the wetness of blood and saliva on his skin hit the chill air. But it was only momentarily. He was warmed again by Inaho's mouth closing over the spot. He began sucking at it softly, then more desperately, as though it was not producing enough blood for him.

Slaine started to feel a little dizzy. He was struck by a powerful urge to sit down, but he was still being crushed against the wall. He squirmed a bit, his breath and heartbeat quickening, and Inaho responded by dropping his hands to Slaine's waist and pulling him tight against his own body. The air was nearly knocked out of him as he was slammed against the vampire's chest. He felt a hand clawing at his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck more fully. His back arched over the other's arm. Exposed and utterly vulnerable as he was, he found he couldn't resist anymore. He simply waited as Inaho sniffed out a more succulent spot to sink his teeth, both afraid of what was happening and reluctant to get away.

_Crunch._

Slaine inhaled sharply as pain radiated from just below his jaw. His face was forcibly tilted to the side to accommodate Inaho's preferred feeding angle.

"S-sto-" he tried to articulate, a growing heat enveloping his entire body. He pushed weakly at the other's chest in an attempt to separate them.

The hand in his hair tightened painfully. "Shhh," Inaho hissed softly into his open wound.

If not for the arm supporting him, he would certainly have fallen to the floor. His head was reeling from blood loss and the pulsating heat between them. He could feel his own erratic heartbeat against Inaho's relentless mouth.

At long last, Inaho pulled away. Blood dripped from his parted lips as he looked down at Slaine's blanched face, the insufficient light of the corridor giving them both a ghastly appearance. Inaho's left eye burned red with hellish intensity, but other remained its usual maroon color. As they stayed like that, staring into one another, the glowing eye dimmed and finally reverted. Inaho loosened his hold, and Slaine slipped from his grasp into an unconscious heap.


	2. Awake

**a/n:** Ok ok so maybe I'll continue this. I was randomly in the mood for it again today. (I'm supposed to be taking a break from writing so much but here I am, still writing)

* * *

Slaine opened his eyes slowly. It was mostly dark around him, save for the soft glow of a candle somewhere nearby. His head was resting on a thin pillow and coarse linens were over and beneath him.

"Are you awake, Slaine?" came a dulcet voice. She was very close.

He turned his head. Sitting by the bedside was a girl. Her long, blonde tresses were partially tied up in a delicate mess of braids, the rest cascading over one shoulder. Green eyes watched him worriedly. He recognized her immediately, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

"You're alive... I've been searching for so long," he answered softly, finding it an effort to speak. "Where are we?"

"Please rest, dear," she insisted, slender fingers brushing the hair back from his eyes. Her pointed nails tickled his forehead as they grazed his skin. "This is the home of a mortal family who has kindly been concealing me."

Slaine cast another look about the room. His eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting, but it was still difficult to make anything out. Aside from the small, rough bed, the only other clue that this was a commoner's home was the wooden bedside table with its single candle.

He had no recollection of coming to this place, but there was a vague memory of another person, and a dark corridor… ah, yes. He had been bitten. Was all of that… what had happened, maybe it was just a dream.

The weakness in his body as he tried to roll to his side said otherwise. It had definitely happened, but what had occurred after he passed out he knew not.

"I'm… sorry about before," said the Princess, "Neither of us meant for that to happen. He's… a little unstable right now."

Slaine was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. A shiver up his spine, more like.

The Princess took Slaine's hand, "I had meant to awaken him properly, but then you appeared and…" she trailed off as his eyes looked past her.

How he had missed the dark form seated in the corner of the room was a mystery. It was now very obvious that there was another person there, watching him quietly from the shadows.

The Princess grew anxious as neither said a word to the other.

"This is a bit of a problem, you see…" she fumbled for the right words, "unlike vampires who are born as such, those who were originally human must be awakened by taking their first blood. It was supposed to be mine, but we got separated at the castle. Now his body is confused, because you awoke him instead, and he will seek you out."

"What?" Slaine's eyes snapped back to her, "You mean he'll keep coming after me now? I'm not a kitchen cupboard."

"I'm very sorry," she apologized again, pressing his hand to her cheek, "I believe… if I offer my blood, as I should have before, it will be enough to reverse this."

Slaine looked at her in horror. No one, absolutely no one, was allowed to taste the blood of the Princess, the one and only heiress of Aldnoah. And here she was going to offer it freely to this mere human, once again to protect him. He wouldn't stand for that. He would stuff that bastard so full of his blood that he wouldn't even think about the Princess's.

Inaho approached slowly and knelt by the bedside. He seemed to be back to his normal self – the version Slaine had known before their last fateful meeting. "Please accept my apology. It will not happen again." His tone was devoid of feeling, much less of remorse, but he looked sincere enough.

He would not fall for that again.

The two of them had only met briefly a few months ago, not long after the Princess had gone missing. In an attempt to express goodwill to the humans living beyond the borders of the small kingdom of Aldnoah, Princess Asseylum had sallied forth with a small band of attendants. And then they had all vanished without a trace. That was what had sparked this war between vampires and men. Slaine couldn't bear to stand around waiting for her safe return and set out to find her on his own. Instead, he had met a boy named Inaho, who had been very much human at the time. The two ended up fighting side-by-side against a particularly malicious vampire who was after some mortal children. After their victory, and believing Inaho to be a trustworthy person, he had ventured to ask about the Princess' whereabouts. To which Inaho had not replied, but rather turn on him and vanished. When Slaine regained consciousness, he was back in Aldnoah and being accused of consorting with humans and killing vampires. As a human himself, he was the perfect one to blame for what had happened to the Princess. He was the traitor in their eyes and deserved no less than the most painful of punishments.

And it was all because of Inaho. He was the traitor.

Now here he was, ruining his life again, and now with the nerve to apologize like everything was fine. It was obvious he was putting on a show for the Princess, whom he was probably manipulating. Where was the apology for the first wrong Inaho had done him? That was long past due.

Even as the boy was kneeling penitently by his bedside, there was a hungry look on his face. Disgusting. He was nothing like the refined royal family. Only the basest vampires let their appetites show so plainly.

"Back for a snack?" he said with less sharpness than intended. He was too drained to speak with any force. Literally drained. Still, there was the Princess to consider. He would not let her offer herself to this vile human.

He flung an arm at the boy, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Ah ah!" Asseylum fretted, standing up in alarm, "no no! You'll pass out again. If you are hungry, Inaho, please let me know. I will supply you, and set this mess aright."

There she went again, spouting nonsense. It was indecent, unheard of.

"That will not be necessary, Miss Seylum," said Inaho, standing up. "He is awake, so please rest now. It's nearly midday, and I know this bright land is tiring for you."

She smiled at him. "Yes, that is true. Alright, I will sleep a while. Please look after him, Inaho. I trust that you'll be careful with him…" she added with stern motherly look.

Inaho dipped his head respectfully, "Of course."


	3. Resistance

Slaine watched the Princess leave with alarm. He did not want to be alone with this beast. How could she trust him so easily?

He gulped as Inaho turned from the door.

"Are you hungry?" he said, his voice soft and benign, "Would you like something to drink?"

Slaine pulled the blanket up to his chin. "No."

He was parched but he wasn't about to ask this person for anything.

"You really need to eat."

"As do you, it would seem," Slaine returned, staring up at him.

A hand went up on instinct and covered his left eye. He looked away.

It was strange. He had never seen a vampire with one human eye. Perhaps it was because he was still partly human, lingering endlessly at his human death, unable to set both feet into a new vampire life. He needed the Princess's blood for that. And Slaine would do whatever it took to prevent him from getting it.

A tiny trickle of blood dripped from Inaho's mouth as he nibbled on his bottom lip. It was gone with a flick of his tongue.

"I'll bring some soup," he said quietly, and then left the room.

A little while later, Inaho returned with a small wooden tray. On it was a bowl of something that steamed, and a tin cup filled with water.

Slaine sniffed the contents of the bowl suspiciously. To his surprise, it smelled delicious. Vampires had a different idea of fine dining, and one he had never particularly cared for. Perhaps it was too refined for his tastes, but he had always found it mediocre at best. Even when it did agree with his palate, there was often not enough or the right kinds for proper human nutrition. This soup had a heartier look, like it could really fill you up. It had been a very long time since he'd had anything like that.

But when he tried to pick up his spoon, he found his hands were still too weak to hold it properly and it splashed back into the bowl. Just sitting up like this made his head spin. A hand caught him as he started to fall forward.

Without a word, Inaho took the spoon from his hand and carefully filled it with broth. He brought it to Slaine's lips, a hand cupped underneath it to catch any spills.

Slaine glared down at it. This was humiliating, being fed like a child.

Seeing he was not going to open his mouth, Inaho put the spoon back in the bowl and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Enigmatic eyes viewed him silently from beneath a dark fringe of hair. Slaine shifted uncomfortably.

The appetizing scent of the soup was driving him crazy. His stomach twisted in knots and his mouth watered for it. If only this person would go away, he could try again to eat it on his own. Instead he stared up at the wooden beams above his head with feigned interest.

He was startled by Inaho's voice, "If you don't eat that I'll–"

"You'll what?" Slaine's eyes were on him in a second. There were a number of things he could do. He didn't want to find out which the devil was planning.

"I'll eat it myself," replied Inaho, "It'll get cold and ingredients are expensive."

Slaine reached protectively for the bowl but instead knocked it over. Hot broth soaked through the blanket and seeped into his clothes. Inaho closed his eyes and touched his forehead with a sigh.

"S…sorry," muttered Slaine as he tried to scoop up vegetables and put them back in the bowl.

A strong hand pushed his own aside. "Don't, you'll burn yourself."

After he had cleaned up the mess as best he could, Inaho rummaged in a trunk at the foot of the bed.

"Here, put this on," he offered a woolen tunic. It was plain, rougher than what he was accustomed to in the royal castle, but it looked comfortable and easy to move in. Unfortunately, he was too weak to put it on himself.

"I don't need it," he lied. He would rather lay in broth than have that person touch him again.

"You'll catch cold."

"I wo-" he jumped as Inaho took hold of the blanket and pulled it back, wrenching it from Slaine's feeble fingers.

"You're such a pain," the vampire muttered under his breath as he forcibly removed Slaine's rich linen tunic, which was wet through.

His frail resistance was not even a hindrance to Inaho's vastly superior strength. It was a grim reminder of just how much he was at this boy's mercy. Yet his hands were not rough. They held him firmly but did not crush him like they had before. The sudden cold air made him shiver violently, before the fresh shirt was pulled over his head. Then, without warning, two arms slipped under him and effortlessly lifted him up.

"H-hey!" he protested in a fright.

"Shh, you're so loud," replied Inaho as he carried him towards the door, "Miss Seylum is sleeping."

Slaine clamped his mouth shut. He was right, but the familiar way he referred to her was a brazen insult to her status. He would have rebuked him but somehow the longer he was in contact with Inaho, the less desire he had to fight him. It was like his will was being sucked away.

Soon he found himself being taken into a small room with a fireplace and a stove. It was probably the nucleus of the small home. Inaho set him down on some cushions by the fire, and disappeared back into the room they had just left.

The warmth felt nice on his skin and he snuggled deeper into the cushions. His stomach was still empty but for now he could ignore it. Still, he decided then that next time he was offered food, he would take it. He needed to keep up his strength if he was to protect the Princess, even if it meant pocketing his own pride. She had once saved him, now it was time he returned the favor.


	4. Resolve

It was a few days before Slaine felt his strength begin to return to him. Inaho, on the other hand, was looking less than well. Slaine reveled in this small victory, but it was a little consolation. He knew it only increased the Princess' risk of becoming a midnight snack if Inaho eventually lost control again. In the meantime, he stuffed himself with whatever food he was given. It wouldn't replace his blood any faster – that took a great deal of time, contrary to what some more ignorant vampires believed, who often ended up draining their prey too quickly – but it would relieve the stress on his body, and that made him feel better.

All of his meals were cooked by Inaho. He appeared to live alone aside from his current guests, and everything he served was incredibly delicious and hearty. Well, Inaho had once been human. It made sense that he would be accustomed to making food that was actually nourishing. Vampires ate human food because they liked it, not because they needed it, and in the royal household the 'delicacy' of the cooking was on a whole new level of unfulfilling extravagance. The Princess was not fond of meat, and since her grandfather the king only partook of wine and the occasional dessert, animal products never appeared on their table. Of course, she was completely unaware that Slaine needed some kind of substitute, and he had never mentioned it because he, too, was unaware. He only now realized that perhaps he was weak even by human standards. Inaho made sure to tell him that, in his blunt, impassive way.

On the eighth day, the Princess called them both to her and, folding her hands neatly in her lap, announced resolutely, "Slaine, Inaho, I have decided to return to the castle in search of my handmaiden. I cannot bear to wait any longer… I fear she may have already met with grave misfortune. Please stay here and recover your strength."

Slaine was about to protest when Inaho rose from his chair. "I will accompany you," he said, leaving no room for disagreement.

She found some anyway. "No, you will remain here." Princess Asseylum was not all that intimidating really, not in this form anyway, but he had never seen anyone disobey her.

Inaho's fingers twitched slightly, and they might have formed fists if he had been the type to get angry, but his protest ended there. Standing up so quickly seemed to have an effect on his balance and after half a minute of swaying unsteadily, he sat down again. "Hmph," he sighed. "Please don't do anything reckless."

A gentle smile softened her expression and she leaned forward to set a hand on his shoulder. "I won't. This time, I'll be very careful."

Slaine shifted uneasily. Her words were a mystery to him, but that was not the issue here. Aside from not wanting to be left alone with Inaho once again, more than anything he did not want to be parted from the Princess. He had always been by her side, ever since she had found him and given him a home with her when he was just a child. He had no memory of his own parents, there had only ever been her. The thought of her disappearing again was unbearable.

There was only one thing for him to do.

"Please, let me come, too."

His attempt was cut short, just as Inaho's had been. The soft shake of her head was a death knoll to his heart, but he could not oppose her.

She rose from her chair, eyes shifting to Inaho. "When I return, will you show me how to make strawberry pie? I believe Eddelrittuo will adore it."

* * *

When she had gone, Slaine slunk back to his spot by the fire and curled up. He had just found the Princess, and now she was gone again.

"I'm going after her," said a voice behind him.

He started up in surprise. "You're? But she-"

"I don't really care about that," said Inaho, boots already on his feet, "I waited because I didn't feel like arguing with her."

_What?!_ This guy had some nerve to disrespect the Princess so blatantly. Still, he couldn't fault him in his intentions this time. That is, if they really were to protect the Princess rather than catch her himself. Perhaps he should dissuade him, after all.

"You really should listen to her," he said, "She's stronger than you think."

Inaho's eyes lingered on him for a moment before he replied. "She's not. When we were attacked last week, she was nearly killed. Her luck won't hold a second time."

This was news to him. The Princess? Nearly killed?! Over the past few days, she had not discussed where she had been and what she had been doing during the time since she went missing. Slaine had thought it was because she didn't want to talk about something unpleasant, but now he wondered if it was because she was hiding something.

His thoughts were conflicted. Should he let Inaho go after her, or trust that she could make it on her own? Or, there was a third option. He had never, not once, disobeyed the Princess before, but he simply couldn't take doing nothing anymore. He wanted to be near her, to be of use to her. A deep breath filled his lungs.

"I'll go, too."

* * *

**a/n: **A bit of a short chapter, but I wanted to go ahead and update since it's been quite a while.

Also, thank you so much for the reviews/favs/follows! Kind of surprised anyone's interested in this story, I'm glad I decided to continue!


	5. Crave

Within the hour the two had left the small cottage behind, making their way through the thick forest that covered nearly all of the borderlands. The castle was a day's walk for a healthy person, but they would probably need two. Neither of them was in optimal condition. What use they would be to the Princess when they arrived, Slaine knew not, but at least he would be with her if anything went awry.

He hoisted his small satchel into a more comfortable position and trudged forward. They were traveling at night, both because they would be less conspicuous and because it was easier on Inaho, who had along with his other bodily alterations developed an aversion to sunlight. A particularly strong one, too.

For several hours they moved in silence, the crunch of leaves and the whisper of fluttering cloaks the only sounds to be heard. It was quieter this time of year, even in the woods. Every now and again they would stop, and look at the sky for their bearings, and then press on again without a word. And without a word they slowed their pace, until they were hardly advancing at all.

Slaine heard a thump behind him, and the crunch and scatter of leaves. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that it was Inaho. He was kneeling on the forest floor, doubled over with his forehead to the ground. Trembling fingers dug into the earth.

"Sorry but…" his voice was low and labored, "you should go back…"

"What? No." Slaine had already decided to keep going no matter what, there was no way he was returning now.

"Then… please stay away from me. Travel separately or… or I'll…" His hands left the dirt and clawed instead at his hair.

So that was it. Not surprising.

But they couldn't travel that way. Even if he were to split off and take another road, Inaho would not be able to go on like this. And, if he did, he would be feral by the time he arrived. If the myths about turned vampires were true, there was a chance – a very slim chance – that he could be stronger than the Princess herself. Regardless of the validity of old wives' tales, or his inclination to dismiss them as such, that was a risk he couldn't take Besides, it wasn't normal that he was this hungry already. There was certainly something different about him - most vampires would only reach this kind of state after a few months, but it had only been just over a week. He did not feel well enough yet for it, but there was only one remedy.

Slaine retraced his steps to where Inaho was crouched on the ground, and unceremoniously settled himself in the leaf litter before him. Without a word, he slipped the tunic from his shoulder. Inaho's head darted up.

"You…" his tone was docile but his eyes were fixed immovably on Slaine's neck.

"Hurry up, before I change my mind," Slaine groused, in a rather transparent attempt to mask his growing dread. He really would retract the offer if the anticipation became too unbearable.

Inaho crawled closer, a bead of saliva slipping from the corner of his mouth. It took all he had not to dash away. Not that he could have gotten far, had he tried it.

Seconds passed like hours as he waited. The cloth of his tunic bunched in clenched fingers and he repeated the Princess's name in his head like some hypnotic chant. It was silly, really, but he clung to the hope that envisioning her would bolster his resolve. Meanwhile Inaho crept forward at an agonizing pace – first a hand tentatively grasping at his shoulder, another clutching the fabric of his tunic, soft and catlike, and finally the tickle of warm breath on his neck. But it was gone nearly as soon as he'd felt it. Somehow, Inaho seemed self-conscious this time, conflicted even.

"What are you doing?" Slaine huffed in agitation. If he was going to do it he should just do it. This waiting was driving him insane.

There was a long pause. Flecks of moonlight danced over them as a breeze played with the leaves above.

"She…" began Inaho, only just above a whisper, "I promised her… I wouldn't…"

He crumpled forward, nearly falling into Slaine's lap, while his entire body trembled violently. A hand still grasped Slaine's tunic, and blood dripped from the other as he bit down on it. So this was the fate of a turned vampire. How miserable. As much as he thought he would revel in this sight, there was an unwelcome pity rising in him. He watched for a moment as Inaho hunched before him, feebly licking blood from his own hand. Really, at this point it didn't much matter what promises he may have made. In this state, it would not be long before he lost control and took what he needed regardless. If that happened, Slaine knew he would probably die. He was certain there was not enough in him to sate such a violent thirst.

"She'll forgive you," he stated simply. It was the truth – she would. If the Princess had any flaws, it was being too kind and too forgiving. He only hoped this person would somehow prove worthy of it. Whether Inaho refused to touch him for her sake, or whether it was simply part of his scheme to stay in her good graces in order to use her to his own ends, he could not yet determine.

Inaho said nothing, though he had stopped sucking on his hand. Instead he was sniffing at Slaine's stomach, which was conveniently just before him, lips parting slowly. He eased forward just a hair.

"H-hey!" Slaine panicked, seeing glisten of starlight on ivory fangs, "I'll kill you!" It was a laughable threat, but it worked. Inaho withdrew, and looked up at him, his left eye burning into Slaine's like a searing hot iron.

It was unclear whether what he had said about the Princess's forgiveness had even gotten through to him, but without further delay he set upon Slaine's throat.

* * *

**a/n: **if anyone was expecting an actual quality story in this fic I am so very sorry...


	6. Limit

Slaine inhaled sharply through clenched teeth as fangs sunk deep into his neck. It was painful, but Inaho's touch dulled his senses, and as the blood began to flow he relaxed involuntarily.

It was too quiet in this forest. He didn't want to hear the wet smack of lips against his flesh – the slippery, sticky sensation was revolting enough. Cool night air sent a shiver through him and he wanted to pull up the unpinned cloak that hung from one shoulder and piled on the ground around his waist. Inaho himself felt colder this time. His breath was warm but his lips were cool. Eventually they would probably lose all their warmth.

"Tell me…" breathed Inaho, hardly bothering to let up long enough to speak, "... when to..." Slaine shuddered at the voice so near his ear. The audible swallowing made him even more uncomfortable.

Would Inaho really stop on command? It was true that this time was much different than the first. At the castle, he had been assaulted in the dark, manhandled, and nearly killed by someone whose reason had given way to animal instinct. It was really a miracle he hadn't died back then. Now once again Inaho had him at his mercy, but it was obvious that he was taking care to be gentle. Most of the time, anyway...

As the trembling in Inaho's hands ceased, they gripped Slaine tighter, fingers coiling around his arm and sliding across his back. He was being held firmly in place as Inaho bore down on him. As if he could go anywhere.

Another bite caught him off guard and he jumped slightly. He would be full of holes at this rate. It bothered him but he could say nothing about it. Instead he made some kind of disgruntled noise, which Inaho categorically ignored as he impatiently scratched aside the hair that got in his way. His tongue lapped at the fresh flow, and he almost seemed hungrier than when he had started.

Suddenly a wave of faintness hit Slaine hard and he could feel his remaining blood rush quickly from his face. Right. He was supposed to stop him. But that was easier said than done. It was a good thirty seconds before he could work up the resolve to speak.

"Ah… th-that's… e-nou-gh! Stop!" he cried, hands frailly pushing the other away.

To his glad surprise, Inaho responded immediately, though he gave one last, emphatic lick before pulling away completely. He heaved a bit of a sigh and pressed a thumb over the tiny wounds. Slaine swatted him off and clamped his own hand over the spot.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, though it came out as more of a feeble whine.

Inaho backed away obediently, wiping his mouth as he went, and Slaine sat up, turning away so that the other wouldn't see his dampening eyes. He curled his knees up to his chest and took deep breaths in hopes it would calm his thundering heart. As he nursed his wounds, he felt Inaho's eyes boring into him from behind.

"What?" he snapped weakly over his shoulder.

"Thank you."

"Haah?!"

"Thank you. I feel much better now. Though you could stand to be a little less fragile," Inaho added ingenuously.

Slaine's eye twitched. As if he was strengthening his body for this beast's sake. It's not as though he'd planned for this situation to arise, or could have done anything about his physical condition if he had. Anyway, being thanked made it seem like he had done it for him rather than the Princess. As if. Were she not involved, he would gladly watch Inaho starve. Or so he liked to think, anyway.

Unfortunately, she _was_ involved, and he was stuck in this nightmare. But it was a small price in light of all she had done for him. If it was for her sake, he would happily give up anything. His thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of eyes on him once more. Sure enough, Inaho was still watching him. He appeared to be fighting the urge to finish his prematurely terminated meal.

"If you hadn't gorged the last time, there'd be more for you now," said Slaine testily, pulling the collar of his tunic back in place. In truth, he had probably waited a bit too long to stop him. It was only supposed to be a sip, but he had probably taken too much. As usual, he had found it difficult to oppose Inaho when he was so near, it took nearly all his resolve to speak at all, let alone issue a command. Another wave of faintness was washing over him and he leaned forward in hopes it would pass.

"Are you alright?" asked Inaho, approaching but not touching him.

As if he cared. Slaine lifted his head to retort, but the movement was a little too fast and for a second he nearly blacked out. Instead he fell sideways into a pile of leaves.

Well this was a fine predicament. Apparently it was impossible for them both to feel well at the same time. There was not enough blood for the two of them.

"You were supposed to tell me before this point," said Inaho as he looked down at him. "How am I to know if you don't tell me."

He was right, but Slaine couldn't help feeling irritated. The way he said it made it seem like this whole thing was his fault, which, clearly, it wasn't.

"I tr-" he stopped short, his ashen cheeks flushing red. There was no way he could tell Inaho the truth, that he found it nearly impossible to resist him once they were in contact with each other. He had heard of this phenomenon amongst vampires, but it was odd to see it this strongly in a male. Then again, he was a rare breed. It was quite possible that Inaho was one of the only vampires alive that had been turned by a female pureblood. Any others must be quite old by now, as the Princess had been the only surviving woman in the royal line for at least a century. The rest had been killed, back then when war had been rampant between the two species, before they settled in their respective lands and pretended the other didn't exist. Borderlands were poorly guarded, if they were guarded at all, and both kingdoms turned a blind eye to what happened there. It was troublesome for the area's residents, but it had maintained a kind of delicate peace for one hundred long years.

Slaine had only ever heard rumors of turned vampires. They were unstable, ravenous, uncivilized, and extremely strong. It was as though they received the power of a pureblood without the innate ability to control it. Bodies not meant for such a force would soon run out of control, and eventually crumble under the weight of their own chaotic existence. It was for this reason that they were so rare. At least, so he had heard. For the most part, they were the stuff of bedtime stories, the lore that everyone knew but no one really believed.

From what he'd witnessed of Inaho thus far, it was difficult to tell. Was he just ordinary, after all? Perhaps it was all fairytales, and turned vampires were simply just like any other. After all, every non-pureblood was the descendant of either a half or a turned vampire. There was a trace of humanity in all of them, diluted by centuries of indiscretion.

After they had rested a while, Inaho hoisted his pack over his shoulder and stood up. "We should depart."

Like that was going to happen. Slaine could barely sit up without feeling as though he would pass out. For a brief moment he was afraid Inaho might leave him there, alone and defenseless in the woods, just as he had done at their first meeting. But then he remembered the nature of their current relationship. He wouldn't let anything happen to his food source. What pathetic insurance. Still, it was something.

Before he could speak a word of protest, he felt himself being hoisted onto Inaho's back. It was subtle, but somehow he seemed even stronger than before. Slaine clenched his teeth as his chin bobbed on Inaho's shoulder with each step. Again, this proximity was intoxicating. It must have been so to Inaho, as well, having fresh blood just centimeters from him that he was unable to sample. Whenever Inaho paused in his stride to get his bearings and check their course, Slaine felt a pang of panic, half expecting to become the main course after all.

At long last they arrived at a clearing, and in the distance, its ramparts illumined by the waning moon, was the outer wall of the castle.


	7. Catch

A chill wind swept through the clearing as they entered it. Before them was the castle, elevated on a rocky hill, its walls appearing even higher with the sheer rock cliffs at the north side. Against the midnight sky a few tattered banners fluttered from its parapets, and only a narrow, treacherous path led up to its outer gates. Inaho halted at the forest's edge, remaining just within its shadows. The castle was supposed to be abandoned, according to hearsay, but there was definitely someone within those walls. They would have to advance with care, or it would all have been for nothing. Inaho seemed to be considering their best line of approach.

"Leave me here," said Slaine at last, having made up his mind.

"Pardon?"

"You... you won't make it with me. Leave me here." As much as he despised Inaho, his instincts said to trust him to protect the Princess. In any case, he didn't have much choice anymore.

"I won't," replied Inaho simply. He shifted Slaine's weight on his back and began to walk along the edge of the glade.

"W-why?" Slaine sputtered, but he was too exhausted to put up any real fight, and that was the end of it, for Inaho said nothing more.

They wound their way along the edge of a small river, which was shrouded with willow tries, that ran up to the castle's base. Moving quickly, eventually they arrived at a drain carved into rocky base of the hill. Inaho set Slaine down on the mossy banks, and then turned back to the drain, taking the bars in his hands and prying open a passage for them.

As dark and complex a maze as it was, it did not take Inaho long to navigate them up to one of the main wings of the castle. Slaine was surprised when the passage they were following, at some point no longer a waterway, ended with a short flight of steps and a very small door. There was something on the other side of it, but Inaho was able to push the door open anyway, and they entered a dark room. Both the drapes and the shutters were wide open, and a pale wash of moonlight just barely illumined a bed and chest of drawers, and some various other furniture. It appeared to be a woman's bedroom, though the thick coat of dust on the floor at their feet, and the cobwebs that trembled in the draft at the corner of the window indicated that it had not been inhabited for some time. Inaho stepped quietly towards a door at the opposite wall, which presumably exited into a corridor. Instead, they found themselves in a sort of dressing room, with powder boxes and bottles of perfume scattered across tarnished silver trays, and silk ribbons cascading from open drawers as though someone had been scrambling to find something. Everything was laden with thick dust and cobwebs now, and whoever had last entered this room had left it a mess. Instead of continuing on through the next door, Inaho paused a moment before a large, oval mirror. The carved wood of its frame was beautifully intact, but the glass had been smashed, as though someone had struck it with something. Slaine was grateful that it was too dirty and broken to reflect much, for he had no desire to see his own deathly pale visage, and even less interest in what it would not show him. He had never quite gotten used to the eerie absence of a vampire's reflection.

The corridor was completely dark. Yet Inaho did not seem hindered by it, and continued on as though there were candles at every turn. At last, there was a light ahead, but they had no sooner seen it, than two dark figures appeared directly in front of them. There was a struggle, and for a little while it seemed Inaho would prevail, until a third appeared and Slaine felt himself being wrenched from Inaho and slung over someone's shoulder. He cried out as he was carried away, but his broken voice was drowned in the echos of the fight that was growing more and more distant.

When Slaine was released, and a door closed on him, he found himself surrounded by darkness. Not even the flicker of a candle or pale glimmer of starlight could be seen. The floor he was lying on was cold and damp, and by the hollow, dank stillness of the air, he was sure it must be the castle dungeon. He strained his ears to listen for any sign of another person, but all that he could hear was water steadily dripping somewhere nearby and the occasional soft skitter of some small animal's feet. He shuddered, and drew his knees up to his chest. The people who had put him here... had they killed Inaho? That thought made him more worried than ever for the Princess. He clutched his woefully empty stomach and squeezed his eyes shut. If only he was stronger…

* * *

The sound of a heavy door opening, its latch clanging loudly through empty corridors, woke Slaine from his restless slumber. He squinted in the darkness. A faint light was growing, and soon he could hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching. Slaine inched as far back into a corner as he could, and waited. With any luck, they would pass him by and take no notice of him. Perhaps if they forgot about him, he would be safe until...

Would anyone come for him? The Princess was his only friend, and she was here for her young attendant. While he was fretting silently in the corner of his cell, and trying very hard to ignore how hungry and thirsty and faint he was, the light and footsteps stopped before his door. A little rectangle of lamplight spilled onto the floor in front of him as it streamed through the barred window of his door.

There was the clatter of keys on a large ring, and then the door was unlocked and thrown open. As much as he wanted to pretend he was still asleep, Slaine could not help but look up as two cloaked figures entered his cell, pulling Inaho along between them. They held him by either arm as he tried to keep pace, and tossed him onto the floor. Then without a word they departed.

Several minutes passed before Inaho stirred, and at first Slaine thought perhaps he was unconscious, or even dead, for he could not even hear him breathe.

"Sorry…" Inaho finally murmured, "if I had left you in the forest like you asked..."

"I probably would have been devoured by wild animals," Slaine pointed out. The forests in these parts were crawling with all sorts of creatures, but he would rather have died out there than endanger the Princess through his useless presence. That had been his reasoning at the time. His sole use to her now was in aiding Inaho as much as possible. But he had exhausted even that function through his own deplorable weakness, and so the best course of action in his estimation was to part ways, and allow Inaho to move more freely alone. "It was foolish of us to come at all, in this state," he said, laying his head down on the floor of their cell and wondering why on earth they had even ventured out. Not that staying at home would have done much for Inaho, who was likely already desperately in need of his next meal. His wounds would sap his energy. Slaine closed his eyes. There was a chance he would never open them again, but he would rather be killed in his sleep than experience that death consciously.

* * *

He did wake again, but it was not where he imagined it would be. Soft, warm, the scent of flowers floating in the air - perhaps this was Heaven, after all. If he had died, he did not remember it. The smooth, supple material beneath him caressed his skin and enveloped him with warmth, and he relaxed into it. His body felt heavy but not unpleasant, and something tickled gently at his forehead-

"Mmnnhh!" cried a female voice through the silence, "ahhh, what a positively delicious scent! My sister has all of the best things, don't you agree, Slaine?"

Round eyes stared into his own, glowing like blue fire, and at once he was transfixed by them. Amidst a cloud of soft pearly hair, he could see a mischievous smile curl at her pink lips, and one slender hand cupped his cheek as she leaned down to him.

Suddenly there was a rap at the door and she halted in her advance, eyes cooling to ice and all traces of a smile evaporating.

"What?" she snapped, not turning her head, but staring harder at Slaine instead.

The door creaked open. "Milady, the Count desires an audience with you." The voice was low and calm.

"Hah!" she spat, "What a tiresome old windbag. Can't I have a moment's peace? I haven't had a fresh morsel in a fortnight, this place is so wretchedly uninhabited."

"Please accept my sincerest apologies in his stead, Princess. Shall I-"

"No! No, do not defend him, Harklight," she sank back onto the bed, composing her hair with her delicate fingers. Her tone dropped to indifference, but the sharpness remained in her words. "We are merely using one another, he and I. Still, I long for the day when I can freely wring his neck without consequence."

The man nodded. "Indeed, milady…" he responded without a trace of hesitation. Then he approached the bed and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her away with ease.

"While I am with the Count, please prepare food for my guest," she instructed as they made for the door, "I don't want him dying just yet."

"As you wish, Princess."

When the door closed, Slaine curled up and buried his face in silk pillows. He, and the rest of the kingdom, had believed that the half-blooded princess died shortly after birth, due to some mysterious complications. But this woman… she was without a doubt the Princess Lemrina.


	8. Yield

"Do you know what I find frightfully amusing, Slaine?" Lemrina's voice trailed from behind a large partition, which obscured her from view as she bathed by the fire. "My sister was long gone before you set foot in this castle. We wouldn't have known she'd come at all if not for that servant girl vanishing, though your appearance confirmed it in the end. So swift and silent, passing through like a phantom... as if she needed clumsy guard dogs to protect her. Though I suppose," she paused, her tone softening, "that pitiable creature has earned some measure of respect."

Slaine closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. So she was safe. It no longer mattered that they had failed, because she had succeeded.

Since the time Lemrina had departed earlier, Slaine had not strayed from the bed where he'd been placed. He was still too weak to move much, but even if he had possessed the strength, he also feared being accused of escape or prying, and thus had stayed put. Only when the person she called Harklight had brought him a plate with food had he dared to sit up, though those calm, sharp eyes that regarded him with intense scrutiny had made him want to hide instead. Now, as the princess prepared for bed, he began to wonder where he would be expected to sleep, and whether he would be returned to the cell with Inaho or someplace else. He wasn't entirely sure which he would prefer.

"Do you think she'll come back for you, as she did for that child?" asked Lemrina, seemingly without desiring an answer, and after calling for a servant to help her from the bath, added pensively, "I wonder..."

Slaine curled himself tighter where he lay, feeling both relief and fear. He hoped she would not come back for them, and stay safe far away from here, but at the same time living amongst vampires without anyone protecting him was an incredibly unpleasant thought. He could barely supply one of them as it was.

Once she had dressed and emerged, and was set upon the bed beside him, she gave a tired, though not unhappy sigh. For a little while, she appeared to be thinking. And then she looked down at him, scrutinizing every aspect of his face before eventually settling her gaze just below his chin.

"Ah, what a monster my sister has created," she mused as she extended a hand to trace Slaine's throat. He froze under her touch, his heart pounding in his chest as he anticipated the bite that would come next. But her lips only parted to count aloud each mark that Inaho had left there as her fingers passed softly over them. "...six… seven… eight... he really likes you, doesn't he? Though I suppose in the end, food is food." She withdrew her hand and leaned back against the pillows. "Harklight-" she then called and the man appeared almost instantly at the door. "Show Slaine to his quarters. I wish to retire."

* * *

The day passed quietly, and he managed to sleep for most of it. To his shock and suspicion, he had been given his own bed in his own room. It even had a lock on the door - not that wood panels stood much of a chance against the strength of a vampire, but it did make him feel safer nonetheless. It was a good thing he was already accustomed to sleeping during the day, and being awake all night, for it was clear that he would be expected to follow such a schedule if he stayed for any length of time. The sun had barely set when he was summoned once again to the Princess's chambers, and found himself seated on a sofa by the fire. Sitting up was somewhat easier now, but he still wanted very much to lie down again.

"Here, eat-" Lemrina, who situated beside him, held up a spoon that dripped with some kind of porridge.

He obeyed, despite his lingering distrust, since resisting at all in his current state would likely only lead to worse outcomes. The food he had been served the night before he had eaten without question, mostly because he was starving, but also because he was admittedly terrified of the vampire who had brought it to him. The man had remained there until he finished his meal, watching him fumble with the utensils and generally staring at him as though he were some potentially hazardous object. The food itself, then and now, was delicious, rivaling even the meals Inaho had prepared for him. It was hearty, too, and as soon as he began eating, he realized how hungry he truly was. Ignoring the princess's constant gaze, he snatched the bowl and spoon and scarfed the rest down in a hurry, for fear it would be taken away from him before he could finish.

She gave him a satisfied look. "Harklight is a wonderful cook, wouldn't you agree? Everything he prepares is delightful, and extraordinarily effective in fortifying human blood."

Slaine dropped the spoon back in the bowl. The remainder of his appetite fled as his entire body tensed. Nutritious, strengthening food was undeniably a good thing for him, but her words still made him feel a little sick.

Her sapphire eyes examined him critically. "You've obviously been fed that worthless fare of the royal table, which would barely sustain a cat. But worry not," she patted his cheek, "you'll be fed properly here. You look more lively already."

"Why… why did you bring me here?" Slaine ventured. Inaho was nowhere to be seen, but he could hardly afford to worry about anyone else right now.

He stiffened as she took his chin in her hand and leaned towards him, until their faces were a breath away. "I've decided to keep you, my sister's darling pet," she whispered, "Would you like to be my servant? Or... would you prefer to return to the dungeon?"

Slaine swallowed, wishing he could flee yet not daring to so much as avert his eyes. The question did not sound like a choice. A subtle threat, perhaps, but there was no obvious malice in her voice or expression. It was fortunate that regardless of her wishes, he would rather stay where he was than die in a windowless cage at the hands of his fellow captive. At least here he was given food and a comfortable place to rest. He still did not trust any of it, but he was in no position to make demands.

* * *

Days melted into weeks, and Slaine found himself running personal errands for the Princess the moment he was strong enough to do so. More and more often he was told to remain with her, though he could not imagine what she wanted him for, because even though she had seemed fully prepared to bite him at their first meeting, she never once tasted a drop from him then or since. Something must have happened at that meeting with the Count to change her mind. Still, the anticipation of the day that event would occur made him continually uneasy and startled around her. She was unable to walk on her own, but there was something about her that worried him - something different from other vampires that he couldn't quite place. He was sure that she was dangerous despite her appearance.

As time passed, his spirits rose and fell alternatively, and he began to resign himself to this new life. It wasn't so bad, all things considered. He might have despaired had he borne any ambitions, but he had never desired anything other than to be always near Princess Asseylum. A selfish, futile wish, but he clung to it nonetheless, and rather than drive him to give up, it granted him the courage to continue. As long as they both remained alive, it was not impossible for him to see her again. At the same time, in regards to Inaho, it was nearly the opposite - he wanted to forget about that person, to enjoy feeling energized and healthy again, to ignore the inexplicable guilt of having left him behind, but he simply could not. Whatever had become of Inaho, it was probably far less pleasant than his own fate. Eventually, he could ignore the matter no longer, and inquired after his former companion. He was relieved when Lemrina confirmed that he was indeed still in the castle dungeon, and very much alive.

"May I see him?" he requested, recalling, however belatedly, that Princess Asseylum had gone through the trouble of reviving Inaho once, and it would be in poor faith for him to let that effort go to waste under his watch.

A small, mocking smile pursed at her lips. "Do you intend to feed him?"

Slaine's eyes widened. "Of course not!" he barked in indignation. _As if_. He simply wanted to check in, and make sure he wasn't being deceived.

"But that's precisely what you'll do if you enter that cell when he's in such a state. It's been quite a long time, and especially for him, and well… he's not in his right mind, you know. He could hardly resist you before, it'll be impossible for him to hold back now. I doubt he would even recognize you."

Slaine stood up, jarring the table and nearly overturning the Princess's breakfast. "You're starving him?!"

"Sit down, Slaine," she ordered coolly, and then paused to take a sip from her cup. "It's not so cruel as that. Perhaps you do not know, because you've led a protected, ignorant life at the palace, where they enjoy turning a blind eye the terrible realities of this world, so I will put it simply for you: the more he drinks, the more he will feel the need to drink. It will do him no good until he's completed his transition into a vampire, and will only make him more miserable as his thirst increases with each feeding. You've already done enough damage, allowing him to drink from you so freely. Honestly, my sister ought to have let him die, if she was unwilling offer her pretty throat to him. He made his sacrifice knowing the consequences full well, and yet this is how she repays him. Does she believe herself kind? Or is she really this much of an idiot-"

"H-how dare you say such-" Slaine felt his cheeks growing hot with indignation, and his fists clenched in his lap beneath the tablecloth. He was sure Princess Asseylum had done the right thing, whatever her reasoning.

"Slaine, Slaine~!" Lemrina sang, reaching to place a finger over his lips, "Have you forgotten that you belong to me now? Your loyalty is misplaced." He shivered under her darkening gaze, her eyes cold and piercing as they narrowed on him. Then she smiled sweetly, and changed the subject, "I can see that this is all very troubling for you. Why you care about someone who has nearly killed you is beyond me, but I must ask you a question - if you wish us to feed him, from whom do you expect us to obtain the blood? If not from you… well, that's a little selfish, now isn't it?"

He had forgotten that detail. It was definitely selfish to expect someone completely uninvolved to supply, well, _him_. There was a question of his own that was bothering him, though. "Why didn't you kill him?"

Lemrina sighed and ran her index finger over the rim of her plate. "I can't," she looked at him in a way that made him inexplicably apprehensive, "Inaho is rare, if not entirely unique, and Count Saazbaum would like to observe him. Apparently he may prove useful in some way. Experiments are not the sort of thing I care for, but he insists, and he's had an elixir done up for our beast, straight from some old book he's become obsessed with. I suppose I may as well inform you that you will be the one to deliver it."

Slaine gaped at her. "Pardon?"

"He will need to be in good health before he consumes it - I trust that you can manage that much. The Count is very particular that it be you - he does not wish to pollute the subject with any other sources, especially since his body is already muddled from having consumed human blood before fully turning. You are the only one he's bitten, so it must be you. Now that you've finally regained your strength, we may proceed at any time."

Suddenly he understood why he had been set apart these past few weeks, and why no one had laid a finger on him. There really was nothing Lemrina wanted him for, except, perhaps, entertainment. All this time, he was simply being prepared for consumption. For Inaho, the one he had imagined himself finally free of. But how had they known that Inaho had bitten no one else? The only other person with that information was Inaho himself. He wondered if they had questioned him for any other information, and what means they had used to extract it.

* * *

As they entered the lower levels of the castle the following evening, and the stale, damp air met his nostrils, he felt a strange sense of peace about what was about to happen. He knew that he should be afraid, that he should want nothing more than to escape the terrible effect this would have on his body, that he should dread the sight of someone so changed that they gone beyond recognition, but he did not. Perhaps because, to some extent, he knew what to expect. It was still Inaho, after all. However brief their time together, the nature of their relationship had in at least one sense become rather intimate. It wasn't a particularly pleasant connection, but the fact remained.

His fingers ran distractedly over the smooth crystal vial that hung on a sturdy chain around his neck. What worried him most was not Inaho, but rather that man, whose sharp eyes he could almost feel boring into the back of his head as they walked along. He had heard of Count Saazbaum before - a respected Versian nobleman, loyal to Princess Asseylum and her grandfather. Or, so he had thought. What was he doing here in this desolate place, with Princess Lemrina?

They came to a halt before a cell door. The torchlight did not evoke any sound from within, and after peering at length through the small barred window, the Count turned the key in the lock, shoved him inside through a narrow opening, and pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

**a/n:** *coughs* I'm back... hopefully with more regular updates~


	9. Dire

Slaine stumbled forward onto his hands and knees and cast a wary glance around him. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness, and the long silence that followed made him wonder if Inaho really was alive in there, or if they'd gotten the wrong cell.

"Inaho?" he whispered, squinting at every corner. The vague shadows were too difficult to make out.

He had nearly turned back to the door to ask whether there was a mistake, when suddenly there hewas, grabbing at his shoulders and sending him stumbling backwards. Fangs tore into him as they fell together, and with a startled screech Slaine shoved the vampire off of him. The cell went quiet again and he lay stunned and motionless on the cold floor, clutching the vial at his chest for fear it would be smashed. He glanced up at the barred window, and though a torch still burned in the corridor, no one could be seen. A terrible thought flashed through his mind, that perhaps there was no experiment and they had simply left him there to die. The Princess might very well be giggling devilishly into her hand at that very moment.

Slaine held a hand to the gashes on his neck and crawled away. Clearly Inaho was still alive, he had confirmed that much, so he should escape while he had the chance. As he scrambled towards the door, a yank at the hem of his tunic halted him, nearly pulling him over backwards. He glanced apprehensively over his shoulder, afraid of what he might see, and there his gaze was met by two gleaming eyes. They reflected only the flickering torchlight, staring at him without a trace of recognition. Even in the dimness he could see that Inaho's skin was ashen and his entire body was shaking. Lemrina was right, Inaho was not himself. He was certainly not human, but neither was he like any vampire Slaine had ever encountered. Now seeing the state Inaho was in with his own eyes, Slaine couldn't help but feel pity, and rather than doing the reasonable thing and pounding on the door on the off chance someone might have mercy on him and let him out, instead he swallowed his panic and reminded himself of why he had come. Their reasons for sending him here did not matter, his mission was to ensure that the one Asseylum had saved did not die by these people's hands. Making sure that he was alive was not enough. And all things considered, Inaho hadn't left him to die in the forest, and might even have escaped this place if not for being burdened with carrying another person. If that had all been simply to keep his food source close, he wouldn't have held back when he was wounded and clearly needed to feed. Inaho was in this predicament because of him, because he was too weak to protect the Princess, too weak to walk, too weak to defend himself, too weak to even contribute his blood. None of this was Inaho's fault. No matter what Inaho had done in the past or may have planned to do, he did not deserve this living hell. They'd already starved him for nearly two months, and that, alongside immortality, did not bode well for his future. If he abandoned Inaho now, he would be exactly what he claimed to hate.

Slaine gripped the vial tighter. What sort of liquid did it contain? What was it meant to do? He wondered if he should really give it to Inaho. For all he knew, it could be a vampire poison, and they intended to kill him after all. It could be something even worse, meant to torment or transform him. The people keeping Inaho here had no reason to care about his welfare, much less his comfort, and were only allowing him to live because there was something they felt they could gain from him. Was it his strength? His blood? Perhaps there was something valuable about turned vampires that he didn't know of.

He winced as Inaho collapsed onto the cell floor, still clinging to the hem of his tunic. In the fragmented light he watched as Inaho tried again and again to raise himself up, only to fall to the floor each time and eventually curl in on himself, whimpering softly into his hands. Slaine approached cautiously. He was surprised that Inaho did not look up, or move, until he held out his bloodied hand to him, which he'd had pressed to his wounded shoulder. Inaho seemed to revive for a moment, and almost immediately his skin was licked clean. He grimaced in spite of himself at the sensation, and pulled his arm away just in time to avoid being bitten right through the wrist. Inaho's eyes narrowed and he gave a frustrated hiss through his teeth. He clamped a hand over Slaine's wrist, snatching it back. But before he managed to sink his teeth in, he caught the scent of blood from Slaine's shoulder.

There was no turning back now. Slaine watched in resignation as Inaho wobbled to his knees by gripping him for stability. One eye burned dully in the darkness and a gleam of red saliva trailed from his mouth. Taking a deep breath, Slaine leaned forward, eliminating the distance that Inaho was struggling to close. The two tears in his shoulder stung a little as Inaho put his mouth to them, trembling lips pressed frantically to his bared skin. It was nothing very threatening - he'd already been bleeding there anyway. He began to relax a bit, hoping this would be enough, but that was short-lived as a moment later Inaho pushed him backwards, nearly dashing his head on the stone floor, and shoving his chin out of the way. There was hardly time to brace himself for the fangs that pierced into his throat, or the nauseous warmth of his own blood pouring out over his skin. For the first time it was painful, like being stabbed with nails, but he could endure it.

Knees slid up his sides as Inaho shifted to nestle on top of him, probably too exhausted to support his own weight for very long, yet crushing the breath out of Slaine in the process. Slaine's neck was beginning to ache from the forced angle, and he tried to push Inaho away a bit, at least to ease into a more comfortable position, but Inaho was rapidly reviving and moving him even slightly was now impossible. Yet as Inaho settled himself, Slaine felt a hand glide under the back of his neck and arch it upwards to expose it more conveniently. As his chin tipped back and his head lolled against the floor, he found himself struggling to breathe. His mouth opened automatically to take in more air, but Inaho's chest bearing down on his own made it difficult nevertheless. Inaho, however, was beginning to breathe more deeply, quickly inhaling between swallows. Slaine felt relieved that at least this was helping him. He sounded healthier, and his touch was becoming warmer.

For lack of anything else to hold onto, Slaine found himself gripping Inaho's filthy shirt with both hands. Soon the familiar feeling of unbearable faintness washed over him, and he realized he needed to think of how to stop Inaho. His muscles had already relaxed against the cold floor, completely unwilling to move or resist. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. It could not have been that long yet, but he was fighting to stay awake. A jolt of panic gave him one short burst of energy, but he had barely begun to push Inaho away when a thin hand curled around each of his straining arms and pushed them down where they could not interfere. Gradually he ceased his futile struggle and lay still. Not that there was anywhere to go in this cell even had he managed to squirm away.

The elixir had long since become irrelevant. There was no way he could get Inaho to drink it, and he wondered how they supposed he would manage this alone in the first place. His last resort was simply to call Inaho's name, in hopes he might respond to it. The unexpected success of that tactic brought them almost immediately face to face, and Slaine found himself looking directly into two cold, ruby eyes. Inaho stared down at him for a long time, half-lidded gaze unwavering, far too close. And for an instant, Slaine caught a glimpse of humanity.

"Slaine…" the name was barely above a whisper, punctuated by trembling breaths that brushed cool against his lips. Something hot and wet dripped onto them, and he could only surmise that it was his own fresh blood falling from Inaho's open mouth. It tickled as it trailed down to his jawline.

The longer Inaho stared at him, the more troubled he seemed, as though he was trying very hard to remember something. This was his chance. If he spoke now, Inaho just might listen, or try anyway. "I promise I'll.." he hesitated when the sharp taste of blood invaded his mouth, "I'll… come back, so… let me g-"

A soft tongue cut him off as it slipped over his parted lips and down his chin. Inaho cleaned away the drops that had landed there, and then promptly returned to his throat. Slaine gave a shuddering sigh and stared up at the shadowed ceiling. He had missed his split second chance. He might pay for it with his life, and that would be unfortunate for both of them, because even if he was weak and useless, Inaho would regret killing the only person willing to help him.

"In… Inaho…" he tried again. As he suspected, the first success was probably just luck. Not quite ready to give up, however, Slaine mustered all his energy and ducked his head in attempt to knock the other's away. One hand released his arm, moved instead to his hair, and grabbed it tightly to immobilize him, nearly tearing it out of his scalp in the process. Slaine's eyes stung with unwelcome tears, but the pain was inconsequential in light of the discovery that he now had one free arm. Somehow, his desire to live was much stronger than he had ever realized, and in another momentary revival he lifted his hand to hit and push and scratch in a last-ditch effort to save himself. His only reward was a backhand slap so forceful that he was sure his forearm must have snapped in two.

If an agonized scream directly into the ear was not enough to get through to Inaho, Slaine knew that no matter how much he wanted to survive this, there was no reason to try anymore. Whatever hope he had gained a moment ago had evaporated the instant he felt his bones splinter. If struggling would only result in being crushed, he would rather give up and die blissfully unconscious. He had been stupid to think he could leave this place with his life, and even more so to have trusted anything he was told by Asseylum's enemies. Weren't they at least worried about their mysterious elixir? As he had thought, it was probably all a lie.

Just then a shadow flickered in the torchlight and there was a sound at the door. "Ah-ah!" chastised a female voice through the small window, "That's quite enough, you'll kill him."

Slaine's fading eyes sprung open, and he had never felt so glad to be proven wrong. Perhaps his scream had reminded them of just how fragile a mortal he was, and that he could easily have perished in less than a quarter of an hour. Whatever the case, they had cut it rather close.

As the door opened, Inaho's hands tightened on him, bruising the flesh of his arms and pressing excruciatingly into his fresh injury. Inaho showed no other outward acknowledgement of the intruding vampire's presence.

"Harklight-" Lemrina said crisply, "if you please-"

"Princess," interrupted the Count, who had apparently also entered, "please do stand back and allow me to take care of this."

Slaine looked from one to the other in a daze. It was nothing short of humiliating to be seen like this, filthy, injured, and pinned flat on his back, but he was too exhausted and weak to care. Inaho had paused in his drinking, at least, and was now crouching defensively. Or, more likely, possessively.

Lemrina shot the Count a chilling look. "Do you want to bring down the castle? You and my sister have done enough damage to this place, it's no wonder there are drafts in every room when you people do whatever you please within these walls. Besides, I am the one who misjudged the human. We already decided that should he fail, it would be my duty to see this to completion."

Harklight brought her close, kneeling beside them, and still Inaho did not move. Lemrina closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened them again, they burned a brilliant blue. Slaine could not help but stare into them, and though she did not meet his gaze, somehow it felt as though she was looking straight into his mind. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. For a moment, he believed he might do anything for her, if only to keep looking into those beautiful eyes.

"Release him," she commanded.

Inaho only gripped tighter, eliciting another startled scream from Slaine, who was now sure his bones had not quite withstood that strike earlier.

Harklight glanced at Lemrina uneasily. "Milady, are you sure he w-"

"I said _release him _."

Slaine braced himself this time, but instead of pain, he felt Inaho's hands loosen and slowly withdraw. Inaho turned to Lemrina, methodically licking the blood from his lips, and blinked at her expectantly. She reached down and picked up the vial.

"Drink this," she said, removing the stopper and holding it out to him.

Without a trace of hesitation Inaho took it and swallowed all of it in one gulp, while Slaine watched in delirious astonishment. For a moment, nothing happened. Everyone waited in breathless silence, until eventually Inaho shuddered and collapsed.


	10. Choice

Slaine was surprised to wake up in a familiar bed. For once, it was his own, or at least it was the one he had slept in for the past two months. Without even moving he could tell that he still felt horrible, and that sitting up would probably be futile for a few days at least. He wondered how many times this would keep happening to him, how long it would be before he could return to that healthy life he'd led before. He sighed, and turned over, pulling the blanket up to his chin. _ Healthy _… that was too generous a term. Even without being drained repeatedly, he'd had other issues to deal with in the past. If Princess Asseylum wouldn't allow him to be bitten, she had never made any such provision against other cruelties. Surely she would have, had she known there was need of it, but he could never bear to tell her that, in light of his low birth, her special treatment only served to provoke many to take their frustrations and jealousies out on him in other ways. That was okay, though. If it was what he had to give up to see her smile, and avoid their fangs, it was okay. It was his fault for being so weak in the first place, and for daring to accept such undeserved favor.

While he had practically grown up amongst vampires, somehow he could never quite get over his fear of being bitten. Until now, that is, when he had been purged of that old terror somewhat by force. Yet here he was again, still weak. Still afraid. More than anything, afraid of his own powerlessness. He had felt it so strongly just before Lemrina saved him from what he had been certain would be his death. Being struck or spat on or insulted was nothing compared to what could happen to him here, where Asseylum's word meant nothing, and where no one needed to hold back, not even the one who was supposed to be his ally. More than ever, he wanted to get rid of that vulnerability, but how could someone like him become stronger? In this world, in this life he'd been given, it was impossible. He would never be able to protect himself, much less anyone else. Asseylum had been right to leave him behind where he could not endanger himself or others.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps outside his room, and the swift creak of the door hinges. He meant to close his eyes as if asleep, not particularly wanting to talk to anyone just yet, but the person had already entered and caught his gaze. It was Count Saazbaum.

The tall figure paused a moment in the doorway, and then stepped in and closed it softly behind him. Slaine hoped that his unease did not show on his face as the Count approached. "Ah, so you've finally woken," Saazbaum began in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "if you are hungry, I will have something brought. But first, allow me to convey my sincerest apologies, Slaine, for your recent unpleasant experience. It could not have been easy being treated in such a manner by a friend, but you will be glad to hear that your sacrifice was not in vain. The elixir performed exactly as intended."

Friend? Slaine's mouth opened to say that there was a mistake, but then he decided there was no point in correcting the Count. It might have been nice if he'd been asked whether he was a friend _before _being fed to Inaho, but it was true that they had arrived together as allies, and he had, after all, inquired after Inaho's wellbeing, so the assumption was understandable. In any case, they would have done it either way, and he was too curious about the outcome to be very irritated. "What did it do?" he asked with as much disinterest as he could convincingly manage.

The Count, now standing at his bedside, looked down at him with a furrowed brow, eyes narrowing very slightly. "You weren't told?" his gaze shifted to the door and back, "I had assumed that she would want to tell you. She's been so uncooperative in this endeavor, I really was sure it was because she was fond of you..."

"Tell me what?" Slaine prompted impatiently, before remembering his position and biting his tongue too late.

Saazbaum did not seem to mind his impertinence and continued, "The elixir's purpose is to reduce his thirst to that of a normal vampire's. He's good as new, practically. That is, as long as we continue to administer it daily. It's merely a salve, not a cure - it won't replace what he truly needs. Ah," the Count smiled, "there's no need to look so concerned. I'm referring to Princess Asseylum's blood. As for you, you are free to do whatever you please. I have confirmed that you are no longer a necessary source for him, but if you would like to remain by his side, that choice is yours. Whatever you decide, I would advise that you first rest at least one week to replenish your strength."

Slaine eyed the Count cautiously. That was it? He could walk away? But Inaho… This seemed too good to be true. There must be some catch, especially since Lemrina had specifically said that there was a particular reason that they wanted Inaho. Slaine pressed his lips together and looked the Count in the eye. "Why are you helping us? No... what did you really do to him?"

Saazbaum smiled amusedly and looked at Slaine with intrigue. "I did not lie, but I won't pretend to have aided that boy out of charity, or that I don't intend to use him for my own purposes. It is quite fortunate for us that he fell into our hands so easily. But there's no need to worry - we won't hurt him," he paused, "You, however, I have no need of. I owe you nothing, but neither do I have any reason to harm you. If that changes, and you decide to become my enemy… do not expect leniency."

Slaine thought to himself that if he possessed the strength to oppose the Count, he would not be lying here in this state. Even so, it was a fair warning. Who knows what might come up in the future. This future that likely included the remainder of his miserably meager lifespan. He nodded his understanding and the Count stepped out to give instructions for his meal to the servants. Once alone again, he felt relieved. He might have felt more so had he been able to get up and lock the door, but as it was he would simply have to imagine that no one could open it, or intrude upon his comfortable sanctuary.

* * *

It could not have been half an hour after the Count's departure when there was another person at the door.

"What do you want…" Slaine grumbled. He inched defensively into the furthest recesses of his bed, though he knew there was no call for it, as Inaho certainly appeared to have regained his senses. The fact that he was out and about freely was testament to that, though something also seemed off about it. He put the thought away for the time being.

"I don't quite remember it," began Inaho, "but it seems I hurt you yesterday. I've come to a-"

"There's no need for an apology," Slaine cut him off, "you didn't know what you were doing." There was no way he would allow Inaho apologize, because an apology implied intentionality, and the mere idea that Inaho had been aware and in control during that was nothing short of mortifying. Slaine would rather forget the incident entirely, though he knew that was impossible.

Rather than drop the subject, Inaho knelt by the bedside, exactly as he had all those weeks ago, and lowered his eyes. "Even so, I'm sorry," he insisted, very quietly, "If there is something I can do for you, whatever it is, please allow me to repay you."

"I don't need you," Slaine quipped, and immediately regretted it. He had the distinct feeling that Inaho actually meant his apology this time, and perhaps he actually had the first time as well, and aside from his offer being quite a useful one, the look in his eyes whilst being so flatly rejected was unexpectedly crestfallen. Inaho said nothing in response this time, but simply nodded, and his silence only made Slaine feel more guilty. Eager to look anywhere but Inaho's eyes, Slaine's gaze fell on something that had not been there before, and he realized that it was probably the reason for his unease earlier. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to a silver band at Inaho's wrist, and knowing perfectly well what it was but wishing to hear it confirmed.

"It reduces my strength to what I am more accustomed to," was Inaho's answer, "It's convenient, I have no complaints."

Slaine frowned. "Doesn't it… make you ill, though?"

Silver, the only known material able to successfully injure and even kill vampires, could also cause sickness if placed in prolonged contact with their skin, similar to the effect of extensive sun exposure. It was the only reason humans had been able to fight back in the past, and hold their own against a more powerful race, though silver was far too rare and precious for commoners to obtain. Amongst vampires, it was a common method of restraining troublesome criminals, but it was rarely used on anyone else because of the adverse physical effects.

Yet Inaho seemed unperturbed by it. "The nausea is trivial, I feel much better this way," he dismissed it, and then added softly, "I... feel human."

Slaine had nothing to say to that. He had been so focused on Inaho's status as not yet entirely vampire that he had never considered the fact that Inaho might actually prefer being human. It seemed rather absurd to favor a fragile existence over immortality and formidable strength. If given the choice, Slaine was certain he would rather be a vampire.

Eventually, Inaho lifted his head and sat back on his heels, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "I've been given a choice, and I'm unsure how to proceed. Will you hear it?"

Slaine gave a bewildered nod. Was Inaho about to ask his advice?

"My options are as follows: I remain here, and do exactly as I am told for as long as I am needed, or live, I suppose, and in return I am able to stay as I am now. If I choose not to accept, the elixir will be withheld, and I will be locked away again, to later be released into the world in... that state. Please tell me… should I follow their orders, or will you grant me one last favor?"

"Favor?" Hadn't he already done enough...

"The dungeon I can endure, but I have no intention of murdering innocent people. Instead I would ask you to kill me now."

After a long, stunned silence, Slaine managed to collect himself once more. "Why me?" If he really wanted to die, he could just as easily do the deed himself. In fact, he would probably have to do it himself, considering there didn't seem to be a single silver object in this place, or at least they were well hidden. He had a feeling the Count, at least, had a silver knife or two stowed somewhere in his personal chambers, but he could hardly go rummaging for it.

"It is your right. I have done nothing but hurt you, and yet you've been very generous with me…"

Slaine frowned. "You're mistaken, anything I have done voluntarily was not for you, but for Princess Asseylum."

"I owe this life to you."

"That's not true," Slaine countered again, "You wouldn't have died."

"That is precisely why I am grateful. I have experienced death, and I can assure you that what you saved me from was far worse."

Seeing that he would get nowhere if this continued, Slaine closed his eyes and feigned exhaustion. Admittedly, he had thought about killing Inaho more than once in the past, though he had never entertained any illusions of his own ability in bringing that about. Now that he was offered a golden chance for it, he realized that there was no way he could do it. Despite all that had happened, or perhaps because of it, he no longer felt ill-will towards Inaho. It was clear that killing him was out of the question, yet there remained the issue that if Inaho accepted the terms, he would be made a slave to these people's whims indefinitely. There were any number of things they might ask him to do, or do to him, which could very well include the one thing he was attempting to avoid in the first place. But it was the only alternative to death, unless they could escape this place and find Asseylum. And then even if they managed to get free of the castle, it was a week's journey at best to the royal palace, and they could not rely on the assumption that the Princess would be at home. Without the elixir, Inaho would not even make it through the borderlands.

Once again, Slaine was unable to do anything. If only he could borrow someone's power to turn this in their favor, if only he could use Asseylum's name for his own selfish purposes, just this once. If he could do that much, he might be able to steal the elixir for Inaho, and they could try their escape. Perhaps if they worked together… but he couldn't ask Inaho to risk so much, not when the chance of success was so low.

He had almost given up the idea when another thought struck him. Asseylum could not help him here, but there was another princess, one with influence here in the castle. Another princess who, if what the Count had said was true, might possibly favor him. And though he would probably hate himself for it in the end, he would take hold of that hope for both of their sakes. Slaine opened his eyes, unsatisfied with his flimsy solution but at a loss for any other way, and realized that Inaho was still waiting for an answer. And so he gave the only answer he could. "Accept the terms."


	11. Ask

Slaine looked at himself around the web of cracks in his bedroom mirror. Some color had returned to his cheeks, if being able to move about without needing to sit down frequently wasn't enough indication that he had at last regained his strength. Welcome as this fragile vitality was to him, he did not bother deluding himself that this would be the last time he would be incapacitated. As long as he was human this would keep happening. This was reality for a mortal in this world, a reality he had been shielded from until now.

After thinking and thinking and thinking about what to do during the days and nights he had spent lying alone in this room, recovering bit by bit, being cared for by humans just like him, he decided that this was his last chance to do something useful, to be strong, and if there was even a faint hope of success, if only in finding some answers, no matter what came in the days ahead he would face it unwaveringly. He folded down the collar of his new tunic and let the strings hang loose. The ivory fabric appeared pale orange in the evening light that filtered through the open window. It was finally time to return to her side. If she no longer wished to see him, he would have to think of something else, and start over. But this was no time to doubt himself. Confidence was success, and success meant freedom. He took one last deep breath of the cool dusk air and pulled the shutters closed.

* * *

"You look well," remarked the Princess upon his entry. She was sitting on her sofa reading a book.

"And you also, Princess," Slaine answered with a respectful bow.

Her eyes lingered on him a moment, and then she returned her attention to the open page in her lap. "The Count tells me that he granted you permission to leave this place. Have you come to say farewell, then?"

"No... I am going to stay."

It was hardly noticeable, but this response seemed to come as a surprise to her. "Why? If you are afraid of the forest, an escort can be found. Or are you actually still worried about the one who nearly killed you?"

Slaine shook his head. "That's not it," he lied. As tempting as her offer was, he could not accept it as long as Inaho was trapped here. "I know that he will be alright now."

"Then there is no reason for you to remain here. You are not a servant, nor are you important. You must know that you will only become prey within these walls. What could you hope to accomplish by staying here?"

"I…" he looked away, "is it… not obvious, your highness?"

"I am not in the habit of asking questions to which I already know the answer."

"Forgive me, I did not mean to be rude. The reason I did not go is... I owe my life to you. You rescued me."

She looked at him for a long time, and he was not sure whether her silence was due to shock or confusion. "Only because-" she eventually began, and then stopped, mouth still slightly open, "because... humans are scarce here. It would have been a waste to let you die when we have another mouth to feed now."

"And yet I am not being kept here involuntarily, or forced to give another drop to him. You are right, I am neither a servant nor important. I think the truth is that you are very kind, Princess. You saved me because you are good."

Lemrina turned very red at this statement, and looked away in irritation. "It can't be helped when you're so weak," she muttered.

"If only it were possible for me to become stronger, I could be of some use to you…"

"It is possible, but I have no need of your strength."

He had hoped that she might respond by reaffirming his former position by her side, but no such luck, apparently. He would have to suggest it himself. "Then I hope that there is still something I might offer... whether as a servant, or a companion, or… or even..."

Her eyes widened a little, and then narrowed with suspicion. "Are you attempting to seduce me?" she inquired coolly.

It was Slaine's turn to be surprised this time, not simply at the boldness of her question, but also the fact that she had thought of it at all. "W-w-what?" he stammered, "I didn't mean…"

"Hm? So you meant your blood. Well, if you desire to be here that badly, I suppose I can find some use for you."

He gave a grateful smile. "Thank you, Princess."

They spoke no more of the matter, and he was surprised that she did not mention Asseylum once. He would have liked to imagine that she believed him to have forgotten her, but he knew she must still be wary of his supposed new loyalty. He would have to tread carefully, and demonstrate that Asseylum was now in his past.

* * *

Days slipped by one after another and the routine nights he had known previously as her servant dissolved gradually into a sort of companionship. Yet even though it was his intention to gain her trust and favor, he never imagined she would become so fond of him so quickly. To wait on her hand and foot and be bitten from time to time had been all he had expected, but instead she only wished to talk, and sit, and read, and hundred other benign activities. For all her aloof cynicism, he discovered in her a different kind of innocence. But this sort of shallow amity was not quite enough for him to ask questions that might make her suspicious, especially when the unspoken matter of Asseylum was all but tangibly a wall between them. He could not even risk inquiring about personal matters, such as her past and how and why it was that she came to be in this place. And while he had learned all sorts of interesting things from her, he still could not seem to draw out information about their ultimate intentions, or why they were Asseylum's enemies, or anything pertaining to what they wanted Inaho for.

Patience is often the wisest course, especially when dealing with immortals, but he had to consider the fact that he was human. If he, too, possessed unlimited time, he could afford to lay his plans carefully and wait for the ideal moment to bring them to fruition. As it was, he was forced to center everything around the fact that he could very well die at any moment, even with the tenuous protection-by-association that came with being a subordinate of the Princess. And so he decided to try pulling her a step closer.

"Princess, is there something wrong with me?" he asked her one evening as he watched her sketch out the design for a painting.

"Pardon?" She glanced up at him, eyes perplexed.

"I... thought perhaps I was not up to your standards. You haven't once..."

She seemed to comprehend his meaning, and returned her gaze to her project. "I know what it is to feel weak, Slaine. It is not something I would wish on you."

Knowing that she truly meant those words made him feel guilty for continuing. "But I am your servant. My comfort is not important."

"Indeed. That is why I won't have you lounging in bed for a week and neglecting your duties."

"That won't happen, I assure you, Princess. It's only a little, but I've become heartier since being here."

Lemrina set down her pen and gave a soft sigh. "Slaine," she began evenly, and he could hear in her tone that she wished for him to drop the subject, "there are others with bodies more suited to such a thing, you ought to leave it to them."

"I envy them. Now, more than ever, when I wish more than anything to make you happy."

Flustered and frustrated, Lemrina shot him a glare and snapped, "I am sure my sister adored hearing those words."

His relief at having finally broached the topic was quickly overrun by the dread of now actually having to discuss it. "I have only ever spoken them to you, Princess Lemrina," he answered humbly. It was true. He had never had the courage to speak such a thing to Asseylum, though he had said it many times in his heart.

"But I daresay you wished that you could," she returned wryly, "Tell me, Slaine: if I were a pureblood, would you still say such things to me?"

"It would change nothing."

She leaned back in her cushions and regarded him a moment. "You're either a liar or an idiot," she muttered, giving her pen an agitated tap against the rim of the ink well. "If not for having seen for myself that you understand better than most, I would think you had no idea what you were saying. That aside, what of Inaho? Somehow you're still bound to him, are you not?"

The lines of her drawing darkened with the forceful strokes of her hand. For a brief moment he hoped she would break the tip, so that he would have an excuse to get up and fetch another. She did not break it, however, and he was obliged to remain where he was and give an answer. "Only from time to time, as is necessary. I had offered to supply him because I felt responsible, but if you would like for me to stop, I will." As much as he disliked it, he knew they would feed Inaho either way.

"No, no. It is simpler if you take care of him. This place functions on a delicate balance as it is."

He wanted to ask about that, but she was not in the right mood for him to be prying so openly. Instead, he decided this was enough for one night. "I'm sorry for distressing you over such a petty matter. Please forget I mentioned it."

"There is nothing to apologize for. If something weighs on your mind, you should say it. I detest polite secrecy."

Slaine thanked her and rose to depart, since it was nearly dawn. He was satisfied with the night's progress, yet all the same felt somehow worse for it as he wished her a restful sleep and took his leave. He closed the door behind him and let out a long breath. For some reason, out of all they had just discussed, his mind was still on Inaho. He had almost forgotten it until Lemrina mentioned it, but Inaho's meal was nearly a week past due. As he weighed the alternatives of a warm, comfortable bed and sleep against allowing himself to be bitten, weakened, and possibly manhandled, a new issue appeared. A shadow flickered over the torchlit walls of the corridor he had just turned down and suddenly he was shoved against the stone by a strong hand.

"What are you planning?" demanded Harklight.

Startled as he was, Slaine forced himself to appear calm as he collected his thoughts. It wasn't as though he hadn't expected this to happen at some point, but he hadn't exactly prepared for it, either. "I don't understand what you mean. I am simply a loyal servant."

Dark eyes narrowed on him. "Loyal… to whom? I doubt that you speak of Princess Lemrina."

Though Harklight had always been a mystery to him since the first day he had come to this place, there was one thing that had always been clear as day: whether by caring choice or some ingrained sense of duty, Harklight's loyalty to Lemrina was unshakable. Slaine wondered how many years he had spent by her side. It was entirely possible that their relationship, whatever it was, had begun long before he was even born. It was natural that he should be wary of a newcomer, even if he was merely a human.

"Whatever crime you believe me guilty of, I am sorry for it," he replied humbly, "It is not my intention to cause trouble." He was certain that Harklight had seen right through him, but it would be easy enough to tie his hands regardless. If he truly cared about Lemrina, he would not hurt her by revealing the truth.

"St-"

"But if you wish for me to stay away, I'm afraid that I cannot. It is her desire that I remain by her side," he concluded, staring directly back into that hostile gaze and silently daring the vampire to get in his way.

Harklight let his arm fall to his side, and after a long silence Slaine departed freely. He hardly knew where he was going as he trudged along corridors, up stairs, and to a familiar door, and after struggling with it for a minute or so, it opened and he stumbled directly into someone on the other side.

"Did something happen?" asked Inaho, steadying him by the shoulders and peering into his eyes.

Slaine shook his head. "It's nothing, I just need to lie down for a moment." He stepped past Inaho and headed for the bed. It was nicer than his own, he frequently noted with envy. With Inaho's agreement to cooperate, apparently the accommodations were on par with the rest of the nobility living at this castle. Slaine curled up on the soft mattress and stuffed his face in a silk pillow. "More importantly, why didn't you say anything?" he mumbled into it.

"About what?"

"You're hungry, and I've been-"

"I'm not particularly hungry. You should sleep."

"There's no need for you to lie simply because I'm a little tired. You're shaking," he released the pillow to tap his neck with one finger, "Now is a good time for it, so please don't keep up this pointless refusal; it's irritating."

Inaho caught his wrist before he could return it to the pillow and very softly ran his other hand over the nearly healed injury. It seemed only one bone had been broken that night, and though it had taken its time recovering no further complications had arisen from it. He wished Inaho would just forget about it, but that didn't seem likely to happen any time soon. He felt eyes on him, and wondered what Inaho was searching for this time. The answer was predictably vexing.

"Did she drink?"

Slaine glared into the blue silk. Whatever might take place with Lemrina was none of Inaho's business. Whether she had bitten him or not, he would be the one to decide how much he could handle, not Inaho. "I feel fine. Please don't make me wait."

As time passed in silence and his arm was carefully returned to him, he thought he might still need to persuade Inaho to get on with it, but then he heard the door lock turn and felt his shoes being removed. He snuggled into the blanket that was pulled over him and closed his eyes, stifling a yawn. Fingers carefully brushed his hair back. The gentle, calming sensation made it impossible to stay awake, and he drifted in and out of sleep, only barely roused by the muted sting of Inaho's eventual bite.


	12. Worry

Slaine's eyes slowly opened. The candle on the table had nearly burned away completely, and a single, pale line of orange light cut across the wood rafters and down the tapestry at the far wall. The sun was setting, and it was long past time to get up. For once, he felt well rested, but he was still too comfortable to climb out of bed just yet. It was warm, and the blanket and pillows were soft. Just a few more minutes couldn't hurt. He closed his eyes again, and almost immediately something touched his neck. He might have screamed had he not been in the process of yawning, but the surprise quickly waned when he realized what had happened.

This was not his room, or his bed. The person nuzzling into his neck was Inaho, but evidenced by the arm draped loosely over his side and the soft, deep breathing just behind his ear, the vampire was fast asleep. Slaine thought back over the night before, to the last thing that he could remember happening. He had come here on his own, lain down on this bed, and invited Inaho to drink of his own volition. There was nothing particularly amiss on Inaho's part, and it wasn't as though he hadn't slept in Inaho's presence many times in the past, but somehow falling asleep in a locked room with a dangerously unpredictable vampire seemed particularly reckless of him. Aside from the baffling marvel of his falling asleep at all during something like that, he had absolutely no idea how long Inaho had been drinking from him after he dozed off. He could have died, and it would have been his own fault. Thinking that his carelessness would probably be his undoing one of these days, Slaine let out a shaky breath and began to consider how he could extricate himself from this bed, which he suddenly no longer felt reluctant to leave.

It was actually surprising that Inaho was not already awake. Usually by this time he was off somewhere in the castle, most often the library, where lately he spent the majority of his days reading the few dusty volumes it contained. Confined to the castle and without companions, family, or work, there wasn't much else for him to do to pass the time. Apparently they wouldn't need him to do anything for a while yet.

Slaine moved forward a bit, hoping the movement would prompt Inaho to retract his arm, but instead it only tightened on him. Undaunted, he reached behind him and ran his fingers lightly over what he assumed to be Inaho's face. As Inaho moved his hand up to brush Slaine's fingers away from his face, Slaine escaped without issue. Unexpectedly, he found he could easily stand up and walk about the room without even the slightest faintness. The door was locked when he tried it, and he briefly wondered whether Inaho hadn't known this would happen, and had secured it to prevent him from leaving while he was asleep. He dismissed the thought. Inaho had probably only been thinking of his privacy, for which he was grateful. Now, as he searched for the key, he was more concerned with remembering where Inaho had set the thing down. Poking around in someone else's bedroom felt sneaky and wrong, but he assured himself he was only trying to get out of this room and not arouse suspicion in the Princess by turning up late. His heart leapt into his throat when Inaho touched his arm.

"Ah… I fell asleep, too," murmured Inaho from beneath the bedspread, which covered him so completely that had Slaine not just been lying there beside him, he'd probably have never noticed his presence at all. A single arm emerged and was handing it to him. "It was in the bed."

Slaine gaped at him in disbelief. "Did you even drink at all?" he remonstrated, pulling back the blanket before Inaho could nod off again. Two drowsy eyes peered up at him, and instead of answering the question, Inaho simply yawned. Well, if he could fall asleep while eating, he must not have been terribly hungry, after all. It almost worried Slaine, but the Count seemed confident that the elixir was safe and effective. Still, he had been shaking. He was still shaking. It was slight, but the hand that rested lazily on the pillow beside his head was trembling. If it wasn't hunger or the elixir, the only alternative cause, that the extended exposure to silver was beginning to cause visible symptoms, was no less concerning. A glance at Inaho's other wrist, the one that bore the silver bracelet, seemed to confirm it.

"How long has it been like this?" Slaine questioned, and snatched Inaho's hand before he could retract it. The skin under the band was raw and inflamed, and some areas had even begun to bleed.

"There's no need for you to worry about it." Inaho tried to pull away from Slaine's grasp, but it quickly became apparent that he no longer possessed the strength.

Slaine shook his head. "That is for me to decide. How long, Inaho?"

"About a week. This won't cause any permanent problem, so please don't-"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to fix this." Slaine examined the affected area, before setting down his arm and leaning over to study his face. His eyes were round, black pools, and his lips were blanched.

As Slaine straightened, Inaho sat up. "I don't want it removed," he insisted.

"You'd rather be like this?" Slaine pushed him back down to the pillows for emphasis. He might have enjoyed feeling strong for once, if the circumstances had been less worrisome. "I'll ask if it might be removed just until your body recovers. Then you can have it back, I promise. They'll likely want to put you in the dungeon while it's off... are you alright with that?" He asked, though they both knew he would do it anyway.

Inaho nodded and looked away. It was difficult to tell whether he was sulking, or simply tired. "Slaine," he said suddenly, catching Slaine's hand as he rose to leave. "Don't do anything rash."

There was nothing very reckless in asking them to do something about Inaho's condition, and so Slaine assumed that Inaho must mean something else. He sighed. "Please trust me, Inaho."

"It isn't you that I don't trust. I only..." he trailed off. After a minute or so, he curled up and pulled the blanket close. "I hate that you're always out of my sight."

The word 'pardon' had nearly formed on his lips when he determined it was best not to inquire. Inaho was ill, which Slaine had over time realized made him bizarrely clingy. Now that the fear of losing control of his instincts was eliminated, Inaho's strange attachment had become much more pronounced. Slaine had never really been around sick people before, but he knew from his own experience that feeling poorly made a person desire comfort and some kind of relief, which right now for Inaho equated to being near the one person who was familiar and safe to him, and had relieved his pain in the past. His words just now were the product and proof of his miserable condition.

"Inaho, I will get us back to her, but to do that I need to take risks," Slaine reminded him. "You'll simply have to bear with it."

Inaho's eyes followed him as he turned towards the door. "I could smell him," he said quietly, "This morning when you came... it was faint, but I know someone touched you."

Slaine halted with his fingers curled around the iron door handle. So Inaho had picked up Harklight's lingering aura, even in this state. Is that what he was so worried about? "My paths cross with many throughout the night. It's nothing."

"It was more than a brush. Slaine, I won't let them do as they please with you."

Slaine's jaw tightened. This new vocal possessiveness was getting tiring. He unlocked the door and threw the key back at Inaho. "In that regard, you are the only offender," he returned irritably, "I can make no promises, but you should remember that my life depends on yours. If you kill someone here out of some idiotic quest for vengeance, I'm sure there will be grave consequences. Besides, what can you do in this state? You're the one who should be careful."

* * *

Even though Inaho had hardly taken a sip from him, Slaine felt exhausted for the remainder of the night. The next evening when he awoke, he could hardly drag himself from bed. It was a strange, heavy feeling, different from the faintness of blood loss, and he wondered if he wasn't overdoing it after all. It wouldn't do at all for his body to give out at a time like this.

He must have looked poorly, too, because nearly the moment he entered the room, Lemrina inquired after his health, and bade him take a seat beside her. He tumbled gratefully into the upholstered sofa and tried not to close his eyes. She then put a hand to his cheek, brow knitted with concentration, and after a moment or two of hesitation and uncertainty declared that he was most certainly ill and should take to his bed immediately.

"Ill?" he repeated lamely, wondering how he'd forgotten such a simple part of being human. While it was possible for vampires to contract illnesses, their bodies were so vastly stronger that it was extremely rare. Hunger was a much more present issue for them. With the current peace between the races, most law abiding vampires were chronically malnourished, while those who raided the borderlands tended to be much stronger. However, there was not much that could be done about either of those problems with the current state of things.

He wanted to stay and ask her about her knowledge of and interactions with humans, and how it was that she had known so quickly what was wrong just now. Her mother was human, but that woman along with her entire childhood was shrouded in mystery. But instead of prying for answers, as he was forced daily to resist, he took her advice and returned to his room to rest.

Slaine spent the remainder of the evening drifting in and out of sleep, tossing and turning in his bed, and wondering whether he would have the strength to fetch food and water for himself. He was no one's responsibility, so he would have to fend for himself until this was over, or until someone pitied him and took it upon themselves to care for him. For now, he wasn't very hungry, and he did have one pitcher of water, so there wasn't much to worry about. Perhaps this would blow over quickly. It would be terribly inconvenient if it developed into something serious.

At one point he thought he heard someone call his name, but then he remembered that he had been dreaming. They were strange dreams, filled with unsettling things that made him rather stay awake despite his exhaustion. So he lay in the darkness, staring up at nothing, until eventually the dawn light crept through his closed window, casting thin white lines across his bed. He followed them with his eyes, watching how they trailed up and down with the folds of the blanket before ultimately spilling onto the floor vanishing in the far reaches of the room. Everything was still rather dark, as it was meant to be with such heavy shutters to block out the daylight.

More than the boredom, or the strange dreams, or the fatigue, the thing that troubled him most was his inability to get comfortable. He ached all over and no matter how hot his skin felt, he simply could not stop shivering. He must have thrown off his blanket twenty times over under the impression that he was exceedingly overheated, each time dragging it back over himself as chills gripped him. This time, as he clutched the blanket to his chest, rolling to his opposite side, the movement provoked a soft sigh that was not his own. He froze a moment, attempting in his delirium to make sense of what he had unmistakably heard. And then, tentatively, he slipped a hand from beneath the bedspread and reached out into the darkness for the source. His fingers met with the soft texture of hair, and a smooth forehead, and the touch elicited another sigh. Slaine snatched back his hand. Someone was sleeping at his bedside, and he did not want to wake them until he was sure of their identity.

"Inaho…?" he whispered, though he knew it was more likely one of the servants sent to take care of him after all. He wondered why he had even said that name.

The person stirred and yawned. "Mm? What is it…?" came a sleepy voice, unmistakably belonging to Inaho.

"... nothing," Slaine answered confusedly, "Why are you here?" If it was drink he wanted, he would have to come back another time. He had already forfeited that this morning when he fell asleep in the middle of feeding.

A hand touched his forehead. "The servants were whispering that someone had contracted a sickness. I came to look after you."

Slaine wanted to say that there was no need, that he could manage on his own, but the will to refuse offered help seemed to have abandoned him. He muttered some kind of acknowledgement and closed his eyes again. Yet, tired as he was, he simply could not fall asleep. Perhaps he had already slept too much.

"Do you want anything?" offered Inaho, apparently noting Slaine's struggle despite the darkness. He heard the scuff of feet on the floor as Inaho stood up and began walking somewhere. The door opened and a very pale light filtered in from a window down the corridor someplace. He lingered in the doorframe, waiting for Slaine's reply.

"Some… porridge, I suppose…" As unappealing as food sounded at the moment, he knew he should try to keep up his strength.

When Inaho returned, he still had not managed to fall asleep. He was glad for the lantern that Inaho brought along with the food, but could not help but view the strange looking drink with suspicion.

"It's a brew made with herbs," Inaho explained, "It's perfectly safe."

While Slaine was fairly certain that Inaho would never poison him, at least not without good reason, he had always been a little wary of medicines and their effects. Especially having lived for so long amongst a race unaffected by them and thus unconcerned with what they might do to a human when added as flavor to food. But he had to remind himself that Inaho was not a born vampire and knew how to care for sick humans far better than he ever would. He took the offered cup and sipped the hot liquid. It tasted strange, but the effect was soothing. After a few bites of his porridge, he was so sleepy he thought he might doze off right into the bowl. Inaho graciously took it from him and tucked the blanket around his shoulders as he lay back down and drifted into a deep sleep.


	13. Rapport

The fever clung to him for several days, sometimes seeming to lift, and then striking again with force. While at first he fretted over lost time, somewhere around the third or fourth day Slaine realized there was still some use he could make of these hours.

"Inaho," he began, after rolling for the umpteenth time to his opposite side, this time to face his unlikely caretaker, "I want to know about you. Tell me."

Inaho set a bowl of steaming broth on the small table beside his bed and glanced sidelong at him. "Is that an order?"

"A request." He wondered if it would have mattered. "I want to know everything that happened since you met Princess Asseylum, and what they said and did to you here. But before that, I want to know who you are, and what kind of life you led before this."

He had been avoiding inquiring about anything that happened since they were captured, because it was probably not something Inaho wanted to remember, but at this point they really needed to combine their knowledge. Maybe discussing other things first would make it easier.

"It's nothing very interesting," answered Inaho, "My sister and I were orphaned by sickness at a young age and taken in by a neighbor. Once my sister was old enough to care for me, and us both being a burden on a growing family, we were put out to fend for ourselves and together made a dishonest living for some years. Of course, eventually we were caught, and that might have been the end of us if not for the intervention of a woman from the Church. We were taken in again, and at the abbey we were given an education and taught useful skills, and spent many very good years, until we became too old to remain there without being true members of the community. Then we left together and began work at a tavern, cooking and doing any extra task we could to save gold for a home."

"Your sister worked at a tavern?" Slaine interrupted, though the more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder whether Inaho working at a tavern wasn't the more bizarre image.

"Yes, with me. Though she seemed to spend more time getting into trouble than doing work. The owner was fond of us, so I suppose there wasn't much harm in it."

"Trouble?"

For the first time, Slaine saw him smile. "She's somewhat overprotective... but it doesn't tend to serve her well, especially where drunkards are involved."

Slaine tried to imagine this woman, who was apparently bold and strong enough to pick fights with inebriated men, as somehow a relation of Inaho's, but in the end he couldn't picture her at all. "Where is she now?" he asked instead.

"Well, when she caught the eye of a nobleman who would not accept her refusal to marry him, we were forced for our welfare to leave and start over out of the reach of his influence. On the journey we met a lord who offered to employ the both of us. However, after only a few months, the original circumstance that caused us to relocate seemed to repeat itself with me. I remained there only about a year."

"You endured an entire year?!" Slaine's greatest surprise by this last bit of information was his own lack of surprise that Inaho had so bewitched someone that he'd needed to remove himself from the situation entirely. He was intelligent and attractive, to be sure, but his manners and personality generally left much to be desired.

"They weren't dangerous," continued Inaho, for some reason explaining his judgement, "just remarkably persistent. In any case, my sister had begun to make a comfortable life for herself there, so rather than uproot her again, I left on my own to a nearby village. That is where I was living until now."

Slaine blinked at him, his tired mind trying to gather up all the information he'd just learned and make something of it. Overall, he determined that Inaho had led a very nomadic, diverse, and potentially shocking life, and that nobility seemed to be the cause of all his trials. "How did you come to meet Princess Asseylum?" he asked, assuming that Inaho's story must be caught up with the present.

"When word came of the vampire princess's upcoming visit to our realm, I along with everyone else was made to join the militia in case of war. Sometime later while I was gathering firewood near my home, I found Miss Seylum badly injured in the woods. I knew that she and her handmaiden were vampires because of their dress and by the way they both seemed to suffer from the intense sunlight, though I didn't know at the time who exactly they were. Seeing how severely wounded she was, I offered my home to them in order to make her more comfortable with a bed and shade-"

"You took them in, when you knew they were vampires?! That seems a bit reckless..." Not that he was surprised, at this point in the story.

Inaho shook his head. "The borderlands are notorious for lawless assaults, kidnappings, and killings, but there are actually quite a few peaceful vampires living there. Somehow, we get along through necessity, and there are even many villages where the two live side by side, and blood is bought and sold like any other valuable commodity. You could even say that if not for vampires, I might have starved before reaching my eighth birthday."

Slaine briefly pictured a young vagrant Inaho, selling his life source to vampires, before forcing his thoughts back to their original discussion. "But I thought you were supposed to be part of the militia… the war would have begun by that point, so why did you not kill them?"

"I have little interest in war. Either way, the news hadn't reached us at that point. For all I knew, she could have been from the next town over."

"I suppose that's true," Slaine admitted, taking the offered broth, which Inaho had at last deemed cool enough to drink, "She recovered at your home, then? Who wounded her?"

"She did, though it was several weeks before she regained complete health. Whoever attacked her used some kind of explosive with shards of silver. It took hours to remove them all, and days for those that were buried deep to come to the surface. We're still unsure of who the attacker was - she was ambushed on her way to the citadel."

"I wonder how she managed to escape..."

"She never said, but I'm certain it's the same as what I saw in the castle back then. She's extremely powerful when provoked. Eddelrittuo was unscathed, so my belief is that Miss Seylum shielded the girl and either destroyed or scattered the enemy herself."

Slaine had never witnessed anything but the warm, gentle Princess Asseylum. He was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around the idea of her being anything else. "Strange, that she should end up here in this castle of all places after such an ordeal."

"Miss Seylum said that she heard one of the assassins mention her sister's name. She, along with the rest of the world, had believed Princess Lemrina to have died shortly after birth, and so naturally she wanted to confirm one way or the other. She also had hoped to find an ally in a blood relative, if it was true that she still lived, and convince her to help end animosity between the races. But since it was just as likely that the assassins were sent by Princess Lemrina herself, I advised her not to go. She was determined, and so I acted as her guide to the one place that seemed fit for a hidden gathering of vampires - this old castle. To our surprise, we were welcomed warmly by Count Saazbaum, with whom she was acquainted, and all seemed well at first. Then I noticed that the doors had all been locked. By that point, it was too late to stop him, but I was able to come between them. I don't really remember much beyond that..." Inaho paused for a moment, his words trailing, "I was only aware of her scream, and of being carried off someplace. She must have drank from me while I was insensible, because when I awoke she had vanished. I suppose that was when I found you."

"I suppose so," said Slaine dryly. It wasn't a particularly pleasant memory, but at least now he understood the circumstances. He was glad he had thought of asking Inaho about his past. There was still one thing, however, which no matter how he looked at it, he could not explain. Especially given his new knowledge of Inaho, it simply made no sense at all. "Why did you turn on me that day, when we first met in the forest?" That day seemed so distant now, but the hurt lingered.

"I couldn't be certain that you were not also her enemy," Inaho answered, as if it were obvious, "since the ones that attacked her were her own kind. Your dress and speech were that of a vampire's, and even had I known you were harmless, I would have done the same. Knowledge of her whereabouts would have put you in danger."

"I _was _put in danger, precisely because of what you did. I suppose you didn't consider the consequences of a human servant being discovered with the presumably murdered corpse of a vampire noble. I was tormented for what happened that day. They believed I was responsible for the Princess's disappearance, and that I had really been a spy all along. I thought I would die by their hands, and-" Slaine stopped himself. He hadn't meant to divulge quite so much, not now and not to Inaho at least, but it all sort of spilled out on its own. The look on Inaho's face made him regret every word, and dissolved any remaining resentment over that day. All this time, Slaine had cursed Inaho for what had happened, never considering that he might have had a good reason for it. Had Slaine actually been one of the traitors, Inaho's actions would have saved Asseylum's life.

"I'm very sorry," Inaho apologized, "you're right, I did not consider that."

Slaine shook his head. "No, I was too harsh. There was no way you could have known that. It's in the past, so let's forget it."

The room was quiet for a little while, as Inaho seemed distracted with his thoughts and Slaine all at once began to notice how tired he had become. He closed his eyes. Inaho hadn't gotten to the most recent part of his story, but perhaps they had gone over enough for one day. After handing the empty broth bowl to Inaho, he eased down into his bed and pulled the blanket up.

He was just drifting off when Inaho spoke again. "May I ask how you managed to escape?"

Slaine opened one eye. "Someone very kind released me and helped me run away. I hope that someday I can repay him."

Someday, when they would finally leave this place...

* * *

"Are you going to stay here all day?" inquired Slaine in a quiet voice, when the morning light pushed through the cracks at his window and just barely illuminated a familiar, hunched form sprawled over the edge of his bed. The question wasn't particularly seeking an answer, and anyway he already knew what Inaho would say if he were awake. It was the third time the vampire had slept in a chair at his bedside. Slaine worried that Inaho was overdoing it, especially with his condition also being less than optimal, and that he might contract the illness himself from sitting in this bad air all day and night, until Slaine caught himself and remembered that those worries were unfounded. Even if Inaho did fall ill, it would be very short lived, if it stuck at all. More and more often, Slaine would momentarily forget that Inaho was not human, despite all that had happened. It was a strange sort of forgetfulness. He wondered if it was more due to the fact that Inaho _acted _human, he spoke like a human and moved like a human, and did human things, or if it was really that he had become so unexpectedly familiar and comfortable that his sheer difference from everyone else in Slaine's life made him seem somehow not vampire.

Slaine reached a hand to touch the soft hair that fell over Inaho's sleeping face. His arms were crossed, cradling his head, and a thin beam of sunlight trailed over his wrist. Slaine looked at the silver band with a frown. The skin was already raw and crusted with blood, but the sun was only making it worse. He shifted to his side, trying to block the light with his body. They had agreed to let Inaho heal in the dungeon, but he had refused to go through with it until after Slaine regained his health. Slaine wondered if eating would relieve the symptoms at all. Not that he was in any condition to provide such a meal.

Two eyes looked up at him, and Slaine realized he'd been daydreaming while staring at Inaho's motionless face. He startled a little, and withdrew his hand.

"Is something the matter?" Inaho asked drowsily.

Slaine shook his head. "Aren't you uncomfortable? You ought to go lie down."

"If you would like me to leave, I'll go. Otherwise, I would rather remain here with you."

"I don't _want _you to leave," Slaine protested, and he wondered whether his words had really sounded that way, or if it was Inaho who had mistaken his genuine concern for a polite dismissal, "I'm only asking that you take care of yourself, too. Just because you won't die doesn't mean you should ignore how you feel."

Inaho blinked at him in mystified silence. Slaine thought once again over his answer, in case he had somehow said something terrible or strange. Resolving that there was nothing out of the ordinary about his response, and that Inaho must simply be too tired and addled to understand him, he sighed and rolled over to the furthest edge of the small bed and patted the mattress behind him. "Lie down here, then."

More silence. He waited, resisting the temptation to look over his shoulder and see whether Inaho was going to accept his compromise. If he wanted to keep on sleeping in a chair, there wasn't much Slaine could do about it, after all. But then he felt the mattress move, and a weight curl up beside him, and heard a soft, comfortable sigh nearby. There wasn't really room for the both of them, but that didn't really matter. For the first time, Slaine realized how grateful he was that he no longer had to feel alone.


	14. Promise

The moment the familiar, dank scent of the castle dungeon reached his nose, Slaine began to doubt himself. He might have been asking too much to expect Inaho to languish in this place once again. The circumstances were far more favorable this time, but the fact still remained the the place was dark and uncomfortable and oppressive, and bad memories hung thickly in the air.

"I'll visit everyday," he encouraged, more for his own conscience than anything, though he hoped Inaho would derive some form of comfort from the promise, if only in the prospect of having regular meals. He did not expect a response, with the vampire being currently occupied with his throat, but he was sure that Inaho was at least listening.

Inaho had flatly refused his offer to stay for the duration. There was no point in pushing the matter, and so he had settled on daily visits instead. Yet from the moment he sat down on the small makeshift bed of the cell, Inaho had held onto him as though he might never return if released. Slaine shifted uncomfortably under the pressure of arms encircling his chest, crushing the breath out of him, but said nothing of it. Inaho had not yet regained his vampire strength, after all, so there was little real damage he could do, and admittedly it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Time passed quietly. Slaine knew he ought to go ahead and stop Inaho, or there'd be nothing left for the days ahead, but doing so had never been easy. He had become so entirely relaxed, that moving even a finger or uttering a single word seemed like an insurmountable effort. He blinked lazily at the far wall, his head listing to one side, and let himself rest in the pleasing warmth that coursed through him. In a minute, perhaps…

Whether it had been one minute, or thirty, he had no idea, but at some point he realized that the gentle movements at his neck had ceased, and instead there was only the soft touch of a cheek pressed against his skin, and the tickle of breath on his collarbone. He raised one hand, at last able to break through his trance, and rested it on the head that weighed on his shoulder. "I should be going," he said apologetically, "If there's anything you need, tell me, and I'll see if it can be brought."

* * *

Slaine trudged slowly up the steps to his chamber. Though it was still a little early, his body felt weary from the day's stress and he was more than ready to go to sleep. However, his hand had only just brushed the iron door handle when he realized he was not alone. The small lantern he carried was not enough to illuminate the entire corridor, but he could feel another's presence nearby, hovering close. He paused a moment to think. It could not be Inaho or Lemrina, and anyone else spelled danger. Whoever was there right now, lurking in the shadows, they were waiting, and watching, and exhausted as he was, he did not unlock the door, but rather hid the key in his hand and turned to leave as though he had forgotten it.

Unfortunately, the person did not intend to let him walk away so easily. Suddenly they were right beside him, and he was commanded not to make a sound as a hand took hold of his arm. Slaine put up no resistance when he was dragged back to the door, or as the key was plucked from his fingers, or when he was pushed along into his own private quarters and locked within by a person whose face he still could not see. They took the lantern from his hand, and it was only at this point, when the light flickered and moved, that he realized it was not one, but two that were there with him in the room. He was certain that at least the one that had grabbed him was a vampire, and it made little sense that the other would not be the same.

As much as he tried to rationalize that he could not be badly hurt when it was well known that he was the personal servant of the Princess, it was hard to ignore the reality of the situation, or the ugly fact that death was not the worst thing that could happen to him. "What do you want with me?" he ventured with as much audacity as he could manage when cold sweat was breaking out all over him. As afraid as he was, he was glad that Inaho was not able to come to his rescue. In his current weakened state, these two would only make a mess of him.

"Can you write, human?" questioned one of them.

Slaine wondered whether this was some roundabout answer to his own inquiry, or if he'd simply been ignored. He nodded slowly. "Yes."

A moment later he found himself with quill in hand, waiting in bewilderment for his next orders.

"You will write a message to her Highness, Princess Lemrina, expressing your urgent desire to return home, and your regrets for not having been able to inform her in person."

Slaine bit his bottom lip. So he was being gotten rid of. The timing with Inaho's temporary captivity could not have been a coincidence, and it wasn't hard to guess who had arranged this. Nevertheless, he wasn't about to give up so easily. Especially not when he was quite certain 'home' would have nothing to do with where he was going in the near future. The only question was whether he would be killed or merely tossed out, the latter of which would be much the same as the former anyway. Not wanting to dawdle too long and test his captors patience, he began to carefully choose his words and pen the letter.

When he had finished, and folded it neatly and set it on the little table beside his bed, he was tossed a crumpled garment. "Put this on," he was instructed.

The tunic was uncomfortable and scratchy against his skin. He assumed the point of this was to leave no reason for anyone to come after him. He sighed inwardly as he carefully folded his nicer clothes and set them at the end of his bed. It had been easy enough to comply thus far, with performing simple, benign tasks, and he wished it could continue that way. If only this could all happen as painlessly as possible... but of course, as always, that hope withered quickly. A vial was held out to him, and he was told to drink it. He didn't dare touch it. If it was poison, his fight would end now. Inaho would be left alone to endure whatever fate was in store for him here, and he would never see Princess Asseylum's smile again. They would probably make him drink it anyway, but the smallest chance of survival in refusing was worth whatever they might do to him in return. After a brief struggle in which he attempted to make for the door, and unsurprisingly ended up thrown to the ground instead, he was dragged to his feet again and securely restrained. The one that was not occupied with immobilizing him pried open his clenched jaw and stuffed the vial between his teeth. Slaine tried his best not to swallow a drop of it, and the moment the glass was pulled away he spat it out before his mouth and nose could be held closed. The little that lingered on his tongue was overwhelmingly bitter. If it was made from a plant, he had never tasted it before.

His self-satisfaction at having foiled them in this one thing, at least, was fleeting. When they began to discuss between themselves how best to make him docile, he realized that the liquid had been a sedative. He should have taken it, after all. If not for his recent display, he might have been able to convince them that it was unnecessary, and that he would submit to whatever it was they intended to do with him from this point on, but as it stood they would have little reason to believe him. They seemed unaccustomed to dealing with humans, because for all their discussion, they could not think of a single way to knock him out. It was probably for the best, anyway. Slaine had a suspicion that a strike to the head from a vampire would do him in. Had they chosen such a dangerous method, he was fully prepared to suggest instead the most obvious option for a vampire wishing to temporarily incapacitate a human, but thankfully they decided on their own that they would simply gag, blindfold, and carry him.

All in all, thus far the vampires were not cruel. They did not seem to have any interest in harming him without reason, and even appeared concerned about handling him carefully. Slaine wondered whether someone else had given them orders not to hurt him, and if he might be deposited someplace safe after all. It was not impossible. If they intended to kill him, or drink his blood, they would have done so already.

The little bit of potion that had made it down his throat was beginning to make him drowsy. It wasn't particularly potent, but it was enough to make the journey seem oddly short as a result of his constant dozing. When at last he was set down, it seemed to have worn off for the most part, and he tried to be as attentive as possible to his surroundings without being able to see them. Footsteps grew distant, and he assumed that at least one of the vampires must have gone away somewhere. Whether the other was still with him, he wasn't entirely sure. They weren't making any sound, anyway. In the meantime, he was surprised to find that the surface beneath him was soft yet firm, as though the ground was covered in some sort of linens. There was a scent in the air that was familiar yet out of place in a natural environment. He thought it must be something like leather. Wherever he was, this was not at all the dusty road or damp forest floor he had expected to be deposited onto. Perhaps they were making camp before daybreak, though he had a hard time believing they would provide him with something like bedding, when he'd not been offered a morsel to eat all night.

Eventually there was the sound of approaching footsteps, no doubt the other returning. They halted directly in front of him, and he felt a cool hand take hold of his chin and gently tip it back to expose his throat. Slaine stiffened. He had thought that he'd avoided this, but maybe they'd only saved him for later, when they could enjoy him any way they pleased in the privacy of the woods. His muscles tensed beneath every tingling touch that traced along his skin, and he wondered whether the blindfold was a gift or a curse in such a situation. Just as he was debating the matter, the cloth was removed from his eyes and he found himself face-to-face with a woman. Her own eyes widened as she beheld his, and a pleased smile crept over her lips.

"Lovely..."


	15. Drift

The woman's gaze slipped from his eyes to his throat. "These marks are fresh," she observed, "less than a day, perhaps. Did you steal him from someone? Surely you did not sample him yourselves…"

"He was not owned, merely used," they were quick to answer.

Slaine glanced around him as they spoke, taking advantage of this time without a blindfold to get his bearings. They were in a sort of makeshift home consisting of fabric stretched over poles, with linens and furs covering the dirt floor. The woman, who he assumed lived in this place, was slight, yet her presence was unsettling. He found himself trembling as she lifted the hem of his tunic and leaned forward to inspect his chest more closely.

"_ Quite _used," she responded dryly after a cursory examination, "But his looks almost make up for it. Temperament?"

"Generally docile, though given to rare fits of defiance," was the sure response, as if he knew Slaine at all after so short a time. Slaine wondered whether there was any human to which that description did not apply in such circumstances.

Apparently the woman agreed with him, because the expression in her eyes shifted from intrigue to irritation. "'Well that's not very informative, is it…" she mumbled, and Slaine could feel his heartbeat in his throat as she proceeded to expose and examine and prod his entire body like a piece of fresh produce at market. At last she seemed satisfied, and sat back on her heels. "I'll take him for five hundred."

"He's worth at least twelve," countered the other.

"Twelve?! Perhaps if he was a bit sturdier, and unmarked. Not only is he fragile and severely scarred," she yanked up his tunic from behind to reveal his whip-marked back, and then gestured to his neck, "but I won't be able to sell him for at least a fortnight, likely two, until these fresh bite wounds heal. Notwithstanding the devaluation, that's quite an expense for upkeep."

"You know his blood is worth more than that. We won't be conned. Is it not the usual practice to taste the merchandise before settling a price?"

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, and without a word she drew a small knife from her waist, and snatching up his hand, pricked his fingertip with it. Then she squeezed several drops onto the blade, from which she tasted it.

There was a long, breathless pause, and then: "Nine-fifty. Not a coin more."

The price was begrudgingly accepted, the exchange made, and the two departed with their gold. Slaine stared numbly at the purple cloth below him. The events of the past several hours seemed too unreal to wrap his mind around, and though he knew it was too early to be so tired, and that this was just the beginning of whatever lay ahead now, he wanted desperately to crawl into some hole and ignore the reality of his circumstances in the blissful insensibility of sleep.

A touch at the back of his head reminded him that those thoughts were futile, and that he was not alone right now. Too tired to rein in his natural responses and preserve himself through submission, he yanked away from her hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she assured him, as if that mattered when she would be selling him to anyone who would buy him, regardless of what kind of person they were. She reached to him again, and this time he remained still as she untied the gag and tossed it aside. "Now then. Who _did _hurt you?"

Slaine did not answer. Many of his potential buyers would likely recognize him, and if they treated him poorly in the past, they'd certainly let him have it now that he was as good as dead, as far as anyone at the palace was concerned. It would be easy for any of the nobles to keep him in secret, without the princess ever finding out. If he gave away the identities of the ones who had left him so scarred, then even if another bought him, they might still make him pay for causing trouble for a fellow count.

Feeling the pressure of her gaze on him, Slaine closed his eyes as though unable to stay awake.

He heard the woman sigh, and stand up. "Perhaps another day. Now then, let's get you tucked away. Can you walk, or shall I carry you?"

Apparently the sedative had not yet completely worn off, for Slaine found himself struggling to raise himself to his feet. His body felt heavy and sluggish, and after two wobbly steps, the woman intervened and picked him up. As they entered a room, Slaine could barely keep his eyes open. He noted sleepily that it was not a cell, or a cage, or a room with locks, as he'd expected, but that only heavy curtains separated this section of the home from the outer area. He was laid down on something soft and comfortable, and felt relieved for the first time in all of this. It was a small moment of respite. Even if he had the courage to run from this woman, he no longer possessed the energy to do anything at all, and he had a feeling it would be a futile effort anyway. Instead, he should grab hold of this moment and rest.

* * *

Slaine wasn't quite sure how long he slept, but when he awoke it was night again. The woman was lying beside him, eyes closed in sleep, and though he knew it was futile and dangerous to attempt anything, he immediately scanned the room for something made of silver. Of course, there was nothing - not in view, anyway - and he resigned himself to lying there until she awoke. She hadn't restrained him in any way, but he was sure it was only because she knew she could easily overtake him if he attempted to leave. He would be stupid to leave, anyway, dressed like this in the middle of winter and without provisions or anyone to protect him from the things that lurked in the forest.

Eventually she awoke, and after giving him a warm meal and fresh water to drink, she rolled up the bedding to reveal a door in the ground. Behind it were stairs that lead down into a dark underground tunnel. Wherever it lead, it must be where she kept her slaves before it was time to sell them. The air was damp and cold as they traveled along in the darkness. The vampire used no torch to guide them, and he was forced to rely on her to steady him whenever there was uneven ground.

"Is the taste really worth four hundred gold coins?" Slaine asked her, genuinely curious yet primarily hoping that conversation might make some sort of favorable impression on the vampire who had just literally purchased him. He was also still grasping the fact that he was now a slave - a blood-slave, at that - and would take any information about his situation that he could get his hands on. A long, deep sleep and a good meal had restored his spirits somewhat, and this seemingly endless walk in the dark was a good time for questions. He understood now why she had let him rest upon arrival. She'd definitely have had to carry him all this way otherwise.

"Mmm…" she responded pensively, "if what you mean is, are you really that delicious, I suppose my answer would be no. In fact, the quality of your blood is arguably poor." Met with silence, and a perplexed expression if she could have seen it, the woman continued to explain. "The value is in its uniqueness. You see, most of your kind tastes exactly the same, just as you wouldn't know the difference between the milk from two different cows. It's rare to find a human with a distinctive flavor, so it doesn't really matter whether that flavor is good or bad."

"Do I taste bad, then?" Slaine inquired, suddenly wondering whether Inaho wouldn't actually prefer to drink from someone else if he knew this information.

A faint light came into view, and Slaine assumed it meant they were almost there. He could now see as she shook her head in response. "Not at all. The flavor is very light. I suppose you could call it soft. Not particularly filling, but certainly refreshing, and that's not something you find often. In any case, even without your taste and pretty face, being male alone doubles your value these days, when you're all armed with silver for the war. You're worth at least double twelve hundred. If they didn't want to be conned, they should have consulted someone more informed before selling to me. I almost feel bad for whoever lost you, but I daresay you'll be in better hands now. I don't sell to cruel masters."

"That you know of..." muttered Slaine, knowing all too well how vampire nobles could become something entirely different once the public eye was not watching.

"My source is very thorough. Well then," she halted in front of a door and fitted a key in the lock, "here we are. Be gentle with the lady, alright?"

Slaine gave her a perplexed look as she secured the door behind him and departed, unsure of what she meant by that last statement. She could not have been referring to herself, so who…? He glanced around the cell. It was a moment before he realized that there was, in fact, a woman there with him. She was wearing a brown shift, much like his own, which blended almost completely with the dirt wall behind her, and he might have missed her entirely if not for the lighter color of the bedding she sat on. Her eyes were on him, and when their gazes met, she seemed relieved somehow.

"Hello," she said, sitting up straight and folding her hands in her lap. "I was beginning to think I'd be alone in here forever."

There was something strangely familiar about her, like he'd met her somewhere before. Perhaps they had merely crossed paths in a town at some point in the past, but the feeling was stronger, almost comfortingly so. "Are… are you also…?"

"Mhm," she nodded, "I've been here for quite a while. Were you abducted, too? Have you... done this before?"

Slaine realized she was asking because of the marks on his neck, which were apparently so conspicuous that they could be seen even by torchlight. "No… never," he replied truthfully. "I've never been owned, but I've lived most of my life with vampires."

Her expression was genuinely surprised. "Ah, I suppose you'll be alright, then."

"I'm not too sure about that. I'm finding I know very little about anything."

"But you've been bitten, that's got to count for something. I'm about as clueless as they come," she laughed nervously.

He would have liked to tell her it was nothing much to worry about, but his own experiences could hardly allow him to deceive her, even if it was well-meant. Inaho was certainly not the standard, he knew that much, but he'd never been bitten by anyone else, so he couldn't say much for her prospects. As much as he would like to assume that nothing could be as terrible as that night in the dungeon cell, he knew better than to really believe he'd already experienced the worst that could happen. Intentional cruelty likely took much uglier forms than simple, instinctive domination of prey. The buying and selling of humans was not illegal in vampire territory, nor did humans possess any of their own rights there, but slavery was also not very widespread. Or rather, it was more of a privilege of the upper classes and those ancient families with seemingly endless wealth to own their own, fresh blood source, rather than having to buy it in bottles imported from the borderlands as the common folk did. However, since he had grown up in the palace, with pureblood vampires who were unable to drink directly from humans without risk of turning them, Slaine knew very little of what sort of lives these human slaves led. He had seen one once or twice, at Count Cruhteo's castle, but there had only been one, and that one had never spoken a word to him.

Slaine sat down against an adjacent wall. It was chilly in this underground cell, but at least there were no winter winds. Just a damp sort of aching cold, that might have been more bearable if he'd been properly dressed. He shivered involuntarily, and the thought occurred to him that perhaps the woman was also cold. She had been there far longer than he.

When he glanced over at her again, she had buried her face in her knees, which were encircled by her thin arms. Her hair hung loose over her bare legs.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, though there was not much he could do if she was not.

She peeked out at him from beneath a fringe of brown. "I'm alright. This bedding is quite warm. I get restless lying under it all day, though. Do you want a blanket?"

Slaine took the offered cover and pulled it over himself, leaning back against the wall. "Were there others?"

"A few, yes. A very pretty sixteen year old girl, and a young woman with child... both were snapped up within a week. There were others similar. I'm exceptionally commonplace, you see, so it's been a few months."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I suppose not. Miss Ramira is not unkind. She takes me outside often and sometimes lets me sit in her tent and talk with her. I wouldn't mind if she was to keep me. But I know eventually I'll be sold off to someone else."

"Maybe she'll free you."

"I doubt it. She's probably hoping you'll raise my value."

Slaine gave her a questioning look. He had a feeling he knew what she was referring to, but it seemed a bit forthright to bring it up, especially when they'd only just met a few minutes before. Ramira's parting words made more sense now, anyway.

* * *

Days passed in the cell - he kept track by the regular meals they were served - and Slaine was beginning to wonder if he, too, would end up here for months. But he had barely begun to consider his options and how he might attempt escape when on the third day there were voices in the corridor outside. They stopped in front of the door and he heard the key turn in the lock.

"I've only got two today," said Ramira to her companion, "but as always, you're welcome to whatever strikes your fancy."

"You're very kind, Ramira." The voice sounded like that of a young man.

"The first is a woman, in her mid twenties, good and sturdy, unmarked with a nice, simple beauty. She's very good-natured, with a bit of spark, sensible and reliable. Her flavor has a hint of richness, but otherwise your usual good human stock. The other… well, I suppose you can decide for yourself. He's a recent acquisition, and I've not had time to spend with him yet."

"Him? You haven't had any males for sale lately."

"This wretched war makes it more bother than it's worth. I'm not about to die for a few extra gold coins. Trafficking this side of the border is dangerous enough as it is."

The door opened, and a man stepped into the cell. He wore a thick, dark cloak, the hood of which shrouded his features from clear view, and his elegant boots paused for a moment at the threshold. Slaine tensed as the man approached him first, but did not attempt to move away. There was no point. There was nowhere to go.

He'd expected the same sort of examination he'd received upon arrival, but without so much as a few seconds of peering at him, the man declared: "I'll buy him. The woman, too."

"B-but milord," sputtered Ramira, who seemed uncharacteristically caught off guard, "you've hardly examined him. Are you sure…?"

"Is there a problem? He's pretty, and if the woman is as you say, she suits my needs perfectly. I could use a good travel companion. I want them both. How much?"

"Pretty?! _Pretty_ is going to cost you quite a bit, you know. The boy's worth a small fortune and I won't take any less. Thirty five hundred gold for the two."

"Hmm… how about thirty, and a drink on me?"

"Your father would take my head off if I dared borrow your power. You're a noble, you really shouldn't go around offering your blood as currency. Anyway, didn't you hear what I said? I can get thirty-five from anybody. I don't have to sell to you simply because we're old friends." She folded her arms across her chest with a grunt. "Don't tell me you've run out of cash…"

"I'm a little low, yes."

"Then what on earth are you buying more slaves for?!"

"Ramira~" he evaded her question in a pleading, sing-songy voice, his hands catching and holding hers. "Have you forgotten how much I've helped you? Just this once..."

After a stretch of silence, she gave a long sigh. "Fine. But you'll owe me. Don't think I'll forget. And honestly, get yourself a cheaper pastime."


	16. Guard

Cold air swept through the forest and sent shivers through Slaine's body. He glanced around casually, wondering if there might be some way to escape before they were hauled off to another place and locked up again, but it would be difficult to elude a vampire without a considerable head start. The night had just begun, and so there was little chance of an opportunity presenting itself anytime soon, and anyway captivity was probably still the safer option. He resigned himself to being placed on a horse in front of the woman, whose arms loosely circled his waist to keep from falling. The feeling reminded him of his last evening at the castle, before he'd been dragged off into the night. The last time he'd seen Inaho, and promised to visit every day. What kind of liar must he seem now…

The vampire rode silently along beside them, and several hours passed before they came to a stop in a small clearing. After being brought down from the horse, at last their new master pulled back his hood.

"It's good to see you, Slaine," said the vampire, his blue eyes glistening in the moonlight.

Slaine's eyes widened. "Klancain?!" he blurted in astonishment. The relief at seeing an old friend, a safe, familiar face after weeks and weeks of unknowns and fears and hurts, was so intense that he had to deliberately stop himself from throwing his arms around the man.

"I'm afraid so," answered the other with a warm smile, "No one in these parts can know that, though, so please do use my name with discretion. I'm glad to see you alive, but…" the vampire's eyes settled just below his chin, expression now filled with concern and regret, "I can't say you look well. I should have gone with you, after all..."

Slaine dropped his gaze, for the first time ashamed of his appearance. Klancain had always been the one to protect him whenever anyone tried to go behind the Princess' back, and then he had gone and thrown it away so quickly the moment he was out of the palace. He no longer cared about the body that had been so carefully shielded for all those years. Was Klancain disappointed in him? By all rights, he should have been the first to taste Slaine's blood.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured, unconsciously covering the marks with his hand, still looking at the ground.

"For what? I'm the one who failed to-"

"I was not forced," Slaine interrupted. He had to clear up any misunderstandings before Klancain could further blame himself. It was mostly, true, anyway. Inaho had only truly assaulted him once, and never out of malice. And Inaho had been the only one, so far.

Klancain did not respond right away, and Slaine could only guess that some form of disillusionment had rendered him speechless. Slaine had always been so petrified of being bitten, he must appear so capricious and ungrateful to Klancain now.

"Oh…" Klancain said quietly after a while, "that's good to hear. It was him, then?"

"Him?" Slaine lifted his eyes. The look on Klancain's face was not angry or disappointed at all. He appeared genuinely relieved, though Slaine could not understand why.

"The turned one," Klancain explained, "You've been helping him, haven't you…"

Slaine nodded. The Princess must have told him about Inaho, then.

"I've actually come for both of you," Klancain continued, "since Asseylum would like to properly finish the transformation, but is unable to leave the palace again by order of her grandfather. Poor thing must be in quite a state by now. How did you get separated? Do you know what's become of him?"

"I was with him until I was… sold... a few days ago. He was alright the last time I saw him - Count Saazbaum has created a medicine that neutralizes the negative effects on his body. Some kind of elixir that mimics the effect of fully turning, I suppose. At the very least, he's not in any pain. He'll be alright without me now."

Klancain's eyes widened a bit at his words. "Really? I thought that was just a myth."

"A myth?" If it was, he had never heard of it. But then, there seemed to be a lot he'd never heard of.

"There were stories of an alchemist not too long ago that believed he could turn vampires into humans. Nothing came of it, of course, but I suppose it's not impossible that someone has found a way to manipulate the process of turning."

Klancain began to remove bags and bundles from the horses as he spoke, handing some of them to Slaine to begin setting up their little camp. Slaine considered Klancain's words as he worked, absorbed in thought. This alchemist… could he be connected to Saazbaum in some way?

"Where is the man now?" Klancain's version of 'not too long ago' could easily be half a century.

"I don't know. It's been a few years since anyone's mentioned him, so perhaps he died, or went into hiding. They say he used to sneak into vampire territory to perform his experiments. That's a good way to get killed, if you ask me."

The sun crept over the horizon, illuminating the small clearing. They would still need to build a fire for warmth, but for now the dawn light helped him to see what he was doing as he laid out the bedrolls. "How did you know I was with Ramira?"

Klancain shook his head and knelt to clear a place for the fire. "I didn't. I just happened to be passing through, and thought I'd check just in case. Usually, I buy her out when I can, but it was difficult to get much in the way of funds for this venture without my father finding out that I planned to cross the border alone. I'm glad I was able to to free you."

Slaine remembered all the times Count Cruhteo would scold his son for reckless spending. And Slaine had always thought Klancain to be a philanderer who only cared for gambling and women. Had he actually been freeing human slaves all this time, and pretending to be a good-for-nothing to cover the truth?

Slaine frowned. "I hope you won't have to go hungry because of me." It was a long journey home, and he knew that Klancain would properly pay for any blood he required, which was becoming increasingly expensive since hostilities rekindled.

"I ate before I left home. I'll be a little hungry, but it's nothing to worry about."

Right. Unlike Inaho, most vampires could go at least a week or two without eating, and those of purer bloodlines would last much longer. Klancain would probably be fine for a while yet.

"Ah… she's run off," said Klancain suddenly, with a weary sigh.

Slaine looked around. He was right. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He actually forgot about her completely during their conversation - she might've left quite a while ago. Yet while it was easily possible for him to have not noticed her departure, he wondered how Klancain, with his vampire senses, could have missed something so obvious as a human walking away into the open forest. Perhaps the sun was getting to him.

The vampire hauled himself to his feet with a yawn and closed his eyes for a long, concentrated moment. When he opened them, he began to head in a westerly direction. "Stay here, Slaine," he ordered, and then was out of sight.

Slaine settled on one of the bedrolls and drew the blanket up around his shoulders. Only a few minutes passed when he again heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching.

"Did you fin-" Slaine stopped short as the person came into view. "Inaho?!"

* * *

"Slaine…" breathed Inaho, though he approached no further. "You're safe…" He seemed almost disappointed, as though he'd hoped, or expected, to stumble upon a different situation.

Slaine then remembered the letter he'd been made to write, and realized they had probably told Inaho that he had been abandoned, and that Slaine had chosen home over him. And now that Slaine was free again, and making camp, it must look as though that were true. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to leave," he hastily explained, "I was…"

"I know." Inaho cast a wary glance at the three beds laid out, but did not ask to whom they belonged.

Slaine stood up and brushed himself off. "How did you find me?" he asked, though the more important questions were why did he come, and how was he able to leave.

"I can… sense you. I'm not sure how, but I can feel your presence… your will. When you were taken from the castle I was still too weak to come after you, but after several hours I was able to break free."

"You _broke out?!" _ Slaine gaped at him. "What about our plans? How could y-"

"It doesn't mean anything if you're gone. Continuing on merely for the whim of my enemies is pointless," Inaho's tone was soft and coolly rational. It made Slaine's insides churn. "I'm not supposed to be in this world to begin with. Realistically, it'd be best if I di-"

"Don't." Slaine clenched his fists. "What about me? How am I supposed to continue on alone now? How am I supposed to live with myself after I've… I've... stopped you... what you'll become… you can't expect me to do that now, not anymore..." he trailed off as angry tears began to fall. He would not kill Inaho. He couldn't. Even if they made it to the palace, he was now unsure whether the Princess would even be allowed to see him. Inaho's life, the life of a lowly human dangling between his rightful mortality and a stolen existence, was unimportant to them. He could only be considered a threat, a weapon, to both humans and vampires alike, and they would eliminate him before he could be used by the enemy.

He must have looked as frantic as he felt, because hands reached swiftly to cup his face as his words died on his lips. He raised his own to slap them away, but didn't quite make it. Suddenly he felt his swirling emotions evaporate, and his arms dropped back to his sides.

"Slaine," said Inaho, looking him in the eyes, "I'm not going to die. Stop panicking."

Slaine stared back at him, words refusing to form, thoughts softly settling and becoming clearer, as though they were not his own. It had been weeks since Inaho had last spoken to him in such an assertive tone, but he had never felt this way at his touch before. There was a vague sense of alarm, somewhere at the back of his mind, but it was quickly smoothed away, and then Inaho's hands withdrew and Slaine could not remember what it was that had unnerved him.

"I will return to the castle and deal with the consequences as they come," said Inaho gently. "They still want me. You should return to Miss Seylum, where you'll be safe."

Slaine shook his head. "No. I already decided to remain with you through whatever comes. The Princess still wants to save you, and I will continue to guard her wish. Besides… I haven't yet discovered what it is they plan to use you for, but now more than ever I believe it must have something to do with Princess Asseylum. Returning home will not keep me safe if it allows them to freely carry out plans that endanger the one protecting me."

Inaho opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it again. If not for the gradually growing glow in his left eye, Slaine might not even have noticed there was anything wrong. Inaho was getting better at hiding it.

"Your companions…" Inaho asked quietly, "are they human?"

Slaine hadn't thought about that. Klancain would be fine, but the woman could be in danger if Inaho stuck around much longer. Ever since he left the castle he had probably been rapidly falling back into the state he had been in prior to the elixir's influence. Three days without it or a drop of blood was bound to be causing him pain by now.

He sighed a bit, and glanced in the direction that Klancain had gone. "One of them. The other is a vampire. A trusted friend," he added, seeing Inaho tense at the word. "He is Princess Asseylum's husband."

Inaho gave him a blank look, as though he hadn't expected that and had nothing to say about it. He wondered if the Princess had failed to mention to Inaho that she was married, though perhaps there wasn't much cause to bring it up.

"Well," he sighed, drawing his blanket closer around his arms as another chill wind swept past. "Can you hold off until we get back?" If Lemrina was right that the more Inaho drank in this state, the more his thirst would grow, then taking the edge off it now might only make matters worse in a few hours. Inaho seemed alright for now. His eye had gone back to its former soft sheen.

"I'll be fine. We shouldn't linger too long, th-" he stopped short and turned his head as though he had heard something. It was a minute or two before the sound of footsteps reached Slaine's ears.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Klancain as he stepped into the camp, staring at Inaho as though he'd expected to see someone entirely different. "You really are a perfect copy."

* * *

**a/n:** to the guest reviewer whose ~30 comments on Monday made me smile and laugh after a miserable day - thank you, I loved reading them, and I really needed it. ;3; You also reminded me that I hadn't posted this chapter to FFn yet... :'D

And thank you so much to all of you who still read my works, and those who have deluged me with comments in the past. It really means a lot to me.

By the way, several AZ authors (including myself) have written a fanfic anthology! If you'd like to check it out, you can go to **goo(period)gl(forwardslash)bTRDnP** (case sensitive, replace (period) with . and (forwardslash) with /) for more info.


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